The Scarlet Letter
by theninemuses7
Summary: A has succeeded in ensnaring the girls in a web of lies and deceit that has inevitably broken down their friendship for good. What happens when Spencer and Emily find themselves in the same small town years after their final encounter? Will their idyllic lives and romances be destroyed because of their confusing emotions for each other?
1. New Flames And Old Games

**Chapter 1 – New Flames and Old Games**

The frazzled woman walked up and down in front of a heavy oak door. She kept tracking the lethargic arms of the ornate clock mounted up on the far wall, sighing more than once to attract the attention of the immaculate secretary who was seated behind the desk, looking far too busy (or at least pretending very well) to notice the subtle calls. A monotonic beep seemed to breathe life into the secretary, who looked up and motioned the woman inside with a curt, "You can go inside now." The woman sighed, and walked inside, her eyes skipping over the sign affixed next to the door: _Spencer Hastings, Divorce Lawyer_.

The lawyer looked formidable yet so surprisingly…_young._ The woman had expected someone far more experienced; the reputation of this particular lawyer was so great that one immediately pictured a wizened man with eyes brimming with years of wisdom. Yet the girl seated behind the ebony table looked hardly in her mid-twenties.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Stone. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting", a clear voice enunciated, and a brisk professional smile painted the lawyer's face. "Let's get started."

* * *

The swimming pool was calm and empty. The early red of the dawn seeped in through the skylight and the blue shimmer of the chlorinated water seemed muted, withdrawn. An olive skinned girl slowly strode to the edge of the pool, and in one fluid movement, executed a clean, elegant dive into the still waters, making hardly a ripple. She swam rounds around the large perimeter of the Olympic sized pool with crazed speed yet precise technique.

"Save some for the actual Games, Fields", a husky voice echoed. A woman wearing a swimsuit sat down on the benches lining the side of the pool. The figure in the pool didn't stop until her tenth round was complete. Ten rounds in a flat forty five point seven eight seconds. The coach looked surprised. The athlete was faster than usual today. Usually this meant bad news.

Emily Fields, a highly skilled swimmer who had already bagged three golds and innumerable silvers in several National competitions was supposed to be practising for the Olympics. She slowly pulled out of the water, her usually cheerful expression replaced by a masked demeanour. "I don't think I can make it to the Games, coach."

"Ha-ha. Nice joke, Fields. Now listen, there's a press conference for the team tomorrow. You'll have to reschedule the practice since you're captain. Also, Sports Illustrated wants to do a photo shoot with you and the team, so let me know when-"

"I'm not joking. I quit", Emily interrupted, shifting uneasily on her feet. She knew what reaction she was going to face, from her family, her team, her coach, and the media. It hadn't been an easy choice. But she saw no other option. Before her coach could even answer, she continued, "I can't do this. I'm not looking for a professional career in swimming. I know I should have thought of it earlier, but I just…" she sighed, before steeling herself and continuing, "I can't. It takes too much dedication. And I just can't sacrifice my life for the game. Sorry, coach. I'll talk to the team and the media at the conference tomorrow."

"Are you absolutely sure?" the coach asked, raising her eyebrows at the woman in front of her. She was seeing a side of Emily Fields that she had never before encountered in her life and it scared her a little. This was going to mean losing the gold this year, and she knew it.

"Yes. I've given it a lot of thought. Sorry." Emily looked apologetic, and turned around, walking towards the changing rooms to take off the US Team emblazoned swimsuit that she had probably worn for the last time in her life.

* * *

Spencer drove her grey BMW X6 effortlessly, weaving through the busy NYC traffic and finally finding the highway out of there. As soon as she hit the highway, her taut muscles seemed to relax and she settled back in the comfortable leather seat, pressing down on the gas and rushing towards home. She knew what awaited her there. _Her Toby._The thought of his crooked smile and flashing eyes brought an echo of his familiar grin on her lips and she drifted away in pleasant musings about her fiancé. She was so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice the police sirens trailing her fast moving vehicle until the blue and red lights were almost upon her. She cursed under her breath and slowed down to respectable 40, then pulled over.

She didn't panic, but put on her best serious expression, and straightened her designer jacket and tie. "Hello, officer", she greeted the policeman who came over to her window wearing a surly expression.

"In a hurry, ma'am? You were going well over 130 mph. Can I see some ID, please?" he spoke in a gruff voice, pulling at his collar anxiously. He sensed the power and affluence radiating from the woman in the car, but he tried to not let it intimidate him.

"Sure, officer." Spencer fetched her driving license and passed it over to him, and smiled in what she hoped was an apologetic way. The Hastings were never apologetic, so it didn't come naturally to her. "Can we please forget this ever happened? As you can see, I have a clean record, and I usually am a very law-abiding citizen. In fact, I'm a lawyer. I'm sure you've heard of Hastings & Hastings." Her tone was casual, yet pleasant. She hurried to add, "This will never happen again, officer. It's just that I have a very important meeting, so I accidentally rushed." She even batted her eyelashes a few times, and then felt plain stupid, so she stopped.

The officer nodded, and then scratched his head. "Okay, Ms. Hastings. This time, I'll let you off with a warning. But please do be careful on the road." The cop put his notepad back in his pocket and walked back to his blinking car. Spencer sighed, the tension receding from her limbs. She pulled back onto the motorway, and hurried(at a reasonable pace) towards home.

Home was a sprawling three bedroom villa in a little town named Holbrook, about fifty miles from New York City. Holbrook had a town centre, an elementary, middle and high school and even a local college. Home was in a beautiful neighbourhood that sometimes reminded Spencer of Rosewood too much.

But Holbrook was much better. There was no A, no reminders of her past, no paranoia, nothing. Only peace. And love.

Spencer parked her car in the driveway and made her way inside, the smell of baking wafting to her nostrils through the opened kitchen doors. "Toby? Toby! I'm home." She paused mid-step at the kitchen door and felt her heart drop.

"What are you doing?" she felt a smile creep into her voice as she watched the familiar figure of Toby stooped over the kitchen counter, checking something in the oven.

Toby looked up, his azure eyes flashing as he smiled shyly at her. "I just baked some brownies for dessert. You took your time", he admonished playfully, tugging at the sleeve of his V-necked cashmere navy sweater, and wiped his hands on his apron. There was a smudge of flour decorating his cheek and Spencer stepped forward, brushing it away. "Sorry, work" she mumbled, before leaning in for a chaste kiss. Home, sweet home, indeed.

* * *

Emily stood in the rain, surveying a duplex in front of her. She was trying to muster up the courage to walk ahead and knock on the brightly painted red door that had an ornate knocker fixed to it. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her stomach felt like it was filled with lead.

Her luggage was on the sidewalk beside her and her mind drifted off to a few months ago, when she had seen this red door for what she thought was the last time.

Flashback:

_"Ari, you have to understand, swimming is not only my life, it's my living. It's my passion and it's my career. I have to practice a lot, I thought you understood!" Emily tried not to yell, massaging the sides of her temples with her forefingers._

_The raven haired girl sitting opposite Emily clenched her hands into fists by her sides, and tried to take a deep breath. "I've. Always. Been. Supportive. Of. Your. Swimming." She was trying, really trying not to get into an argument. But it was so hard. "I love you, Em. But you're always at the pool. Either that, or you're sitting by the window, thinking about god knows what. We've been together for more than sixteen months but I still feel like you're a stranger to me, sometimes."_

_She got up from her chair and knelt next to Emily, pushing her dark fringe out of her dark eyes. "I know you need your space. I know you need your time. But if that means you have no time left for us, then I think there shouldn't be an us. That's all." There was an air of finality to the sentence and it hovered awkwardly in the air between the girls._

_"Fine. You shouldn't have made me choose", Emily spat through gritted teeth, all niceties thrown out of the window. She got up and stormed through the door, banging it behind her with a resounding thud._

Emily could still hear that bang resonating in her ears, and the memory felt new, yet old. Like a tear-stained, revisited page from a favourite novel. Or a rerun of her favourite sitcom, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. She sighed and picked up her bags, walking up the porch to the front door. She rang the bell twice, and then crossed her arms, prepared to wait in the rain for however long it took. She was soaked and shivering already, so it didn't matter anymore.

The door swung open soon, and a startled image of her ex-girlfriend greeted Emily, who tried to wipe the moisture off her face and smile. "Can I come in?" she asked hesitantly, suddenly feeling super conscious about her appearance. Her naturally wavy hair was straight and hung in damp, messed up locks on her shoulders, and she was creased with travel and fatigue.

Arianna herself looked sleepy, wearing nothing but pyjama shorts and a cute tank top. According to Emily, she looked gorgeous, with her shoulder length brown locks all mussed and curly from sleep, and sans her usual plastic-framed black glasses. Emily just wanted to melt into her arms, but she stopped herself from feeling too hopeful.

"You're all wet." It was a statement, but it sounded like a question, so Emily shrugged, smiling a little sheepishly. "Come in", Ari said, almost stumbling over her own feet in her attempt to get outside to help Emily with her luggage. But instead of reaching for the luggage, she ended up fumbling for Emily, and pulled her clumsily into an embrace. She pulled back, and stared at Emily. Water clung to her lashes like dewdrops but it wasn't the moisture from rain that made her eyes appear glassy. She cupped Emily's neck and pulled her in for a kiss. Forgiveness had never tasted_ so sweet_.


	2. Down The Memory Lane

**Chapter 2 - Down The Memory Lane**

Dawn found a certain Spencer Hastings cuddled up under a pale turquoise duvet, sleeping well past her self-appointed rising time of six thirty a.m. that applied for holidays and weekends. She tossed and turned and then woke up with a start, immediately reaching beside her for the comfort that only the touch of her beloved could provide. But her groping hands only met with empty sheets and the panic within her rose quickly. The nightmare that had plagued her usually peaceful sleep last night was a recurring one. It involved four friends that she strove to forget, and a mysterious stalker who had ruined her past.

"Toby, Toby?" she called out, fear's iron grip on her heart.

"Ta-dah!" came his reassuring voice, as he appeared at the door, carrying a tray piled with toast, sausages and waffles. "I made breakfast for my poor, overworked fiancée." He set the tray on her lap, and leaned in for a kiss.

Spencer grinned and backed away, gently pushing his chest. "I need to brush my teeth first. I feel icky making out with you without getting cleaned up", she mumbled, getting up and heading towards the bathroom.

Toby fake pouted, "But I don't mind!" he called out to her receding figure and she turned around, sticking her tongue out at him before closing the bathroom door behind her. She was really finicky about some things, but Toby loved that about her. It made her who she was. Strong and confident, Spencer Hastings. He glanced at the photo frame of the two of them that rested on the bedside table. It had been taken on one of their road trips, and Spencer had been driving, looking focused as she always did. Toby had tugged at her chin to make her face the camera at a traffic light, and before he could click the photo, she had pulled him into her, turning the camera effectively to snap a picture of the two of them. The picture was natural. Toby was almost falling into Spencer's shoulder, his neck craned uncomfortably, but the look of pleasant surprise made his eyes sparkle brighter than usual as he gazed lovingly at Spencer. And Spencer looked cheeky as she winked into the camera. He realized that being with him brought out a different side to Spencer and he loved that. He loved her.

"Spenceeeer! Your breakfast is getting cold. Come on out, I'm starving!" Toby yelled, settling back on the bed while he waited for her. Spencer appeared from the bathroom, wiping her face on a lilac towel, and then she threw it at him, grinning. "Do I have to house-train you again, darling?" she asked teasingly, smirking as she plopped down next to him and bit into a piece of sausage that Toby offered her. "This is yum. Go find your own breakfast. I'm finishing this off by myself, thank you very much" she giggled, grabbing the fork on which he had speared a sausage and placed it into her mouth.

"This is the thanks I get for waking up early and cooking for you. Ah, the trials and tribulations of being Spencer Hastings' love slave" Toby dramatically sighed, wiping invisible tears off his cheeks. Spencer flicked his nose and cut a piece of omelette to feed him, then snuggled into his chest. "You're the best", she mumbled into his chest. "You really do spoil me too much."

"No. I love you. All this travelling, living in a small town, instead of NYC, you do all of that for me. So I can't help but do something for you too", he whispered back, nuzzling into her hair. "Now eat like a good girl. We have lunch plans."

"We do?", Spencer asked, quirking an eyebrow at him and pulling back to check if he was being serious.

"Yep. Remember Arianna? That journalist whose study I renovated with nineteenth century themed furniture? She's kind of a friend of mine and she's throwing this little lunch party today. Not really sure why, but we're invited. Oh, and she just lives across the street, so I said yes without asking you..." he drifted off, suddenly unsure of himself. He wondered if it had been a good idea to accept an invitation without consulting Spencer. She was the one who usually made decisions regarding all their outings. He merely complied with them; not because he was forced to, but he just found it easier to follow her strict routines than make any of his.

Spencer grimaced, then rolled over, burying her face under pillows. "Do we have to go?" came her muffled voice from under layers of stuffing, sounding a little irritated.

"Not if you don't want to. I can always tell them you got sick." Toby's reply was quick and natural. He would never force her to attend anything just to be 'nice' or 'neighbourly'. Keeping Spencer happy was far more important to him than keeping up appearances.

Spencer raised her head and cracked a smile. "You're being too nice, really. We'll go. It can't be too bad, right? Just a simple lunch. And maybe we'll go for a drive afterwards", she smirked, her eyes twinkling mischievously. She hardly knew her neighbours, although she had lived in Holbrook for a while now. She'd had no interest in getting to know them either. Toby was all the emotional attachment that she needed right now. But it wouldn't be bad to see some people who weren't her clients. She could sit through a dull afternoon and still manage to look interested and lively. She'd done it all her life.

But little did she know that her lunch plans would be anything _but_ dull.

* * *

Emily fidgeted with the hem of her dark purple lycra jacket that had a seal emblem emblazoned on the right, with the words '_Holbrook Seals_' in gold lettering under them. A whistle hung from her neck, and she watched several purple-clad figures glide through the shimmering azure water. It was her first day at work, and she'd come early to catch the swim team of Holbrook High practicing. Being in such familiar surroundings made her suppressed thoughts and emotions resurface. She remembered how being the star of the Rosewood team had meant everything to her back when she was seventeen. How quickly priorities changed. She'd said no to the Olympics, and she didn't regret it. Not that much. Really. She wasn't even thinking about it.

Except now she was. And she felt something resembling regret begin to creep into her thoughts. But she just ignored it. She pushed it away. She focused on the splashing sounds of the water. She watched the lithe movements of the girls in the pool and allowed it to lull her into a trance.

And that unlocked her memories.

_A seventeen year old Emily Fields was changing at her locker, tired but happy with the day's practice. Just as she was about to shut her locker, her phone buzzed loudly, signalling a text. She gulped, her good mood practically shattered. She keyed in her password and saw that she had a new message from a blocked number. She grit her teeth, opening it. _

**Seems like Little Mermaid is gonna get into trouble. Your HGH reports have been mailed to your parents and your coach. But don't fret. This Sea Witch can make it all go away. But it won't come for free. Just finish what you once started. **

**I'll be watching you - A**

_Attached to the text was a photo of Emily and Toby, standing on her porch. Emily gasped. It was old, and it had been taken on the night of Homecoming. It showed Emily hugging Toby right before leaving for school. It left Emily feeling confused and scared. What did this even mean? Toby was with Spencer now, and everyone knew she was gay. She couldn't,_ _she _wouldn't _let A destroy her swimming career. She had to stop the mail somehow. But how? Her parents were in Texas. Maybe she could try and visit the post office. No. It wouldn't work. _

_Another text made her phone almost jump in her hands. She frowned and opened it. _

**Kiss him, or else. Tell anyone about this, and I upload the reports on the internet.  
**

_She felt like crying. But she knew what she had to do. _**  
**

"Ehm, Coach?" A voice broke through Emily's reverie. A tall blonde swimmer stood in front of her. She had striking blue eyes. Emily glanced at her blankly before remembering that this particular student happened to be the swim-captain. Most of the team had been treating Emily with some kind of awed reverence, because they'd never had such a swim star coach them. But this girl hadn't been afraid to approach Emily without any reserve or shyness.

"Yes, Vivian?" She tried to smile, standing up and inhaling lungfuls of chlorine to clear her head. The memory of her betrayal still clung to the inside of her lids and she blinked rapidly, looking dazed. "Anything wrong?"

Vivian shook her head. "We were wondering if Principal Carter told you about the swim meet that's on for next week. I'd arranged an extra swim practice this afternoon. Could you give us some tips then?"

It was Saturday. It was supposed to be a day off. And Emily now had a headache. She sighed. "Sorry, Principal Carter only told me about the morning practice. How about we schedule one tomorrow? Let the team know as well, okay?" Suddenly she felt very, very tired. And not at all ready for a 'casual lunch to mingle with Holbrook society'. Arianna's words, not hers. She zipped up her jacket and walked towards the staff parking.

The school was just a short 10-minute drive from Ari's house. But it felt like hours to Emily as she sped across half-empty roads. Dregs of memories kept floating up no matter how much she tried to drown them.

_"Toby?" Emily felt like fire ants were crawling all over her legs, and her insides felt like they had suddenly liquefied.  
"Em" Toby looked surprised. He had been working behind Spencer's barn, working on some new furniture her parents had commissioned from him . "Spencer isn't here", he informed her with a shy smile. Emily calmed down, but only a little. At least Spencer wouldn't have to see. _

_"It's 'kay. I kinda wanted to just see you." She fidgeted with the bracelets that adorned her wrists and sidled up next to him. He was shirtless, and very sweaty from his exertions. Spencer would probably really enjoy the sight, but it made Emily feel kinda sick. Toby would have been attractive to her only if he'd been a girl. He didn't have a bad personality, and for a while, she'd kinda fooled herself into thinking she might fall for him. She shook her head. She couldn't bother to get sidetracked. A was probably watching them somewhere. She would kiss him quickly and leave. _

_"Oh. Okay." Toby didn't ask any questions, but looked a little flattered. He didn't have many friends. In fact, he only had Emily and Spencer. So any attention was welcome. He'd always had a soft spot for Emily anyways. Before he'd gotten to known Spencer, he'd thought Emily was the sweetest of Alison's clique and he still felt that she certainly was the nicest. _

_"I..eh..", Emily mumbled, wondering how she should proceed. "You have a great body" she blurted out, and reddened immediately. She tried to look aloof and perhaps...seductive? Before Toby could say anything, she stepped forward and kissed him. _

_Toby froze in shock but it didn't take him long to react. His hands moved to her shoulders and he gently, but firmly pushed her away. "What the hell, Emily?" he looked confused and hurt. "Is this some kind of a joke?"_

_"Yes, Emily. Why don't you tell us?", came Spencer's familiar drawl, which was tinged with obvious pain and anger._

_Emily turned around, her eyes widening, and then becoming glassy as the impact of her actions registered on her. She felt guilt twist her gut at the expression on her best friend's face. "I'm so sorry, Spence. I didn't know you were here.."  
_

_"And therefore you proceeded to take advantage of my absence in the best possible manner? Yeah, real classy. I thought you..But you're into girls!" Spencer hissed through clenched teeth, unable to control her sense of betrayal and confusion. "I don't understand. Is this some prank? Something A put you up to?"_

_It would have been so easy to confess. 'Yes', Emily almost said, but stopped herself, looking around at the woods that surrounded them. She thought she saw a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. A wouldn't be kind if she confessed everything and admitted that this was a ploy, it was A's new game plan. Divide and rule._

_But she couldn't do it. _

_"I'm sorry, Spence. I really am." And with those words, she tried to brush past Spencer, wiping her tears._

_Spencer grabbed hold of her arm, forcing the taller girl to bump against her shoulder. "Is this lesbian thing an act as well? Or just because you get rejected by every girl you fall for, now you're stealing everyone's boyfriends too?"_

_"Spencer, that's enough", Toby called out, his voice firm and his face stern. _

_Spencer sighed, and shoved Emily away from her, who ran all the way back to the Marin's, her tears blurring her vision and her guilt clouding her mind. _

_A text alerted her when she reached home. It was short and precise. _

**From Little Mermaid to Little Ho'. You get to keep your tail. Bye bye HGH.**_  
_

**- A**

_Instead of relief, only anguish filled her as she collapsed on her bed. _

A phone started ringing and it jolted Emily out of her reverie. She was surprised to find that she was sitting in her car and it was parked outside Arianna's house. She had no idea when she'd gotten here and how long she'd been sitting here. It seemed like her body had gone into auto-pilot. Her girlfriend's name flashed on the display, and she picked up.

"Babe, where are you? You were supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago."

"I'm just outside, I'm coming right in-"

"No, don't. We're going shopping. I just realized I still have to get some supplies. I'm coming out." And the call got disconnected. Emily sighed for what felt like the millionth time that day and let her head drop to the steering wheel. The horn blared for a long couple of seconds before Emily realized she was the one making that atrocious noise. She jumped back and rubbed her nose, feeling dismayed. She really had to learn to let go of the past.

Across the street, a brunette head peeked through curtains, glaring at the silver car that was making an ungodly noise and ruining her afternoon of silent contemplation and unhurried reading. Even Toby knew not to disturb her. She wondered who the offending vehicle belonged to. She'd never seen it before and couldn't see who was sitting inside because the windows were dappled with reflections of flower-laden trees that lined their street. As soon as the horn stopped blaring and peaceful stillness slipped on like fitted glove onto the street, Spencer Hastings went back to the book she was reading, silently asking the heavens why it was illegal to kill some people.

* * *

**A/N:** _I'm kinda writing this as it goes, so I apologize for any errors! Suggestions/feedback/criticisms are really welcome.  
__And thanks for all your lovely reviews. I've left the lunch off for the next chapter as I'm all written out right now. And I have lots of projects to do, so. Yeah. Keep reviewing!_

_LaughLoveLiveXx__: Yeah, their careers are going to be plot devices in the chapters to come. And Emily's always been a little unsure and unlucky when it comes to love, in my opinion, so Arianna's there to define that. _

_Cha: I hope this chapter solved part of the mystery for you. I'm going to include little snippets of flashbacks to explain their past. I don't want to just explain it all in one go. _

_spinoza-off__: Thanks so much. You're like my favourite Spemily writer, so it means a lot. And Toby's my favourite guy character on the show, I just think he's so adorable and understanding. He's kind of a male version of Emily really._

_I do hope I can keep writing this because this is my first fanfic and I was a bit apprehensive about starting but I'm enjoying it so much. _


	3. War of Words

**Chapter 3 : War Of Words**

Spencer and Toby stood outside the brightly painted door of their neighbour, the wind whistling through their hair. They were laden with wine and gifts; Spencer had insisted. She was clad in a light blue and gray summer dress that came up to her knees and had picked out an aquamarine shirt with a navy cashmere sweater for Toby. She had said it brought his baby blue eyes out and made him look even more adorable, and he had blushed away the compliment like he usually did.

"We're not too late, are we?", Spencer wondered, worried as always.

"Please don't tell me you're going to stress through lunch too. Babe, relax. I wanted us to come so that you'd have some..distractions", Toby spoke in hushed tones, attempting to soothe her frayed nerves. Why exactly her nerves were frayed, he had no idea. She had just mumbled some unintelligible thing about how her 'alone time' getting disturbed.

"Like you don't distract me enough", Spencer retorted slyly, poking his stomach and then leaning in for a quick, chaste kiss before knocking on the door. Toby made her feel so.._safe. _And she'd had enough adventure to last a lifetime. There was nothing unexpected about him, nothing he ever did shocked her. He was like a nice bubble bath at the end of a tiring day at work. One look at his chiseled face always made her stomach swoop (a feeling she'd long associated with test results and the footsteps leading up to the stage to collect prizes). And she was grateful to have him. He was the only part of her past that she was willing to cherish.

The door swung open, interrupting Spencer's romantic (and extremely mushy, in hindsight) thoughts. And then Spencer's stomach did something it had never done before. It seemed to disappear entirely.

Standing on the threshold, partly hidden in the shadows, was her former best friend Emily Fields, wearing a mask of bafflement and shock that Spencer knew mirrored hers.

All at once, she felt transported back to the past. And the force of Emily's betrayal stung her with a new force after all these years. Her mind seemed to reject the reality and scurry back into the recesses that she tried to never frequent (at least not when she was awake).

_Spencer watched Emily's retreating back with a bitter taste in her mouth. She regretted the poison she had spewed at her best friend, she hadn't been facing Emily, but she had almost heard her heart shatter as the weight of Spencer's words crushed them cruelly. But why should she care? Spencer didn't care. No, not one bit. Her feelings of horrific betrayal weren't tinged with worry about her best friend. Spencer wasn't battling with the urge to run after Emily. Spencer Hastings didn't have feelings._

_"Why did you say that? Spence..look at me. Spence!" Toby had to yell to get her attention._

_She was in a daze. All that replayed in her mind like a recording was that kiss._ The Kiss. _The one that made her insides feel like they were on fire. Why, why, why?_

_Spencer looked up to Toby, her eyes ablaze. "Why did she do it? I thought she was into girls. I don't understand. I don't.." she trailed off, her brow creased with the etchings of her misery._

_Toby didn't say a word, but looked at her a little sadly. "I don't really think she wanted to." A pause, a trembling hand on a delicate shoulder that seemed to sag beneath the weight. The tremendous weight of a comforting hand. Oh, the weight that threatened to crush her._

_Spencer backed away, her gaze murderous and accusing. "What was happening? Did you..did something..she said that she thought I was gone. What was she going to do if I hadn't come..?"_

_Spencer didn't want to dwell on the fact that she was more concerned about Emily's sudden interest in men rather than the fact that her best friend had just kissed her boyfriend. The act had baffled her. Why was she pretending? Why, why, why?_

_Why did Spencer care?_

_"Maybe you're an exception", Spencer continued her distraught monologue, beginning to pace up and down the ferny floor of the forest. "Maybe..maybe she realized she had feelings for you all along. But she'd never hurt me like that..I thought we were friends! Why didn't she tell me?"_

_"Spence. Stop. Please, you're scaring me." He hugged her, smoothing down her hair. It irritated Spencer immensely. She'd just brushed her hair an exact 137 times, and he was ruining it. She pushed him away._

_"She shouldn't have done that." Her tones were clipped and even, like she was suddenly completely drained of emotion._

_"Maybe she was forced into doing it. I don't know, Spencer. You girls do pretty..strange things without really..giving excuses. I don't know, it just doesn't seem like Emily. And you were really..really harsh to her. What were you thinking, attacking her like that?", Toby demanded, in a quiet voice._

_"I wasn't. Thinking." She looked tired now, and she slumped down on the stump of a felled tree._

_"That's strange. Spencer Hastings, not thinking? Must be a special day", Toby tried to joke, waiting to see if she smiled._

_She didn't._

"Oh, they're here." A figure scurried out of the darkness inside the house, wearing a smile that seemed out of place all of a sudden. Toby looked just as shocked as Spencer, but he kept quiet.

Spencer suddenly found her extensive vocabulary terrible limited and had no choice but to keep quiet.

And Emily looked like was auditioning for the 'deer in the headlights' character. Well, she certainly looked like she was going to bag the role.

Arianna, to Spencer's surprise (and sudden annoyance), was a tall, dark and beautiful woman with shoulder length hair that framed her angular features. For some reason, her calm smile and inviting dark eyes managed to irk her quite a lot and she could already feel a scowl forming on her face, which she tried to restrain unsuccessfully.

"Ms. Hastings, is it? Toby's told me a lot about you. It's great to finally meet you", Arianna continued in a slight British accent, mixed with something a lot more exotic, blissfully unaware of the metaphorical blast that had just happened on the scene before her arrival. Their host grinned at them, and ushered them inside, before waving a hand towards Emily. "That's my girlfriend, Emily. She moved to Holbrook yesterday."

"Yeah, we know her-", Toby started to say, but was interrupted (wasn't he always?) by Spencer's slightly shaky voice.

"As in, from television. She's an Olympic swimmer, right? On the team for the States?", Spencer tried to keep her tone jovial and mildly curious. She knew all those Shakespeare plays she had starred in and all those acting classes her parents had forced her to take because they'd look good on a college application.

Emily flushed, her emotions clearly visible for anyone to see. That is, if they knew what to look for. She knew what Spencer was doing. Pretending not to know her. Pretending not to have any ties to the girl who used to know every secret about her. Pretending. Acting. And it hurt. After the initial numbness that had followed Spencer and Toby's unexpected arrival, a rush of emotions threatened to leave Emily shipwrecked.

And this was a touchy topic. She wished Spencer hadn't brought it up. Not the O-word. They never mentioned that word.

Arianna's jaw clenched but she continued smiling,"Eh, yeah. Not anymore though. She's the Holbrook Seals swim coach now. They're so happy to have her."

"This..is for you", Toby offered the wine and little present to her, smiling weakly. He suddenly looked like he didn't know what to do with his hands. Spencer was scaring him. Again. He could just feel the negative energy radiating off her. He was sure Emily could feel it too.

"Thanks, Toby. You're a sweetheart. I'll just put them in the kitchen. Em, could you show them to the living room? And ask Rob whether Leonard will be able to make it today." With that, Arianna sauntered off, leaving Emily feeling cold and nauseous.

"This way", Emily managed to choke out, almost stumbling over her own feet trying to guide them to the living room. It wasn't that hard. She just had to stay focused, she had to ignore the thudding of her heart, she had to ignore the strange sensation gnawing away at her. She had to stop acting like an emotional freak. Toby and Spencer had every reason to despise her, and the fact that they weren't rushing to break her neck with the vase on the hallway table or bashing her head into the wall was reassuring. But what wasn't reassuring was the ghastly look in Spencer's eyes that Emily had read all too clearly, or the uncomfortable flush that had brought colour to Toby's usually pale features. They had gaped at Emily as if she was a ghost.

Maybe that's what they thought of her. A ghost from the past that was haunting them. That was ruining their afternoon.

But she wondered how long they would be able to keep up this charade of not knowing each other. She didn't really know if she wanted to explain everything to Arianna. She probably wouldn't be able to account for her actions. She didn't like thinking about A, or all of the mistakes that she'd made in her past. It made her feel more like a failure than ever. A coward. The weakest link.

They entered the living room quietly. It was a spacious area, decorated in muted tones of beige and blue. A bored looking couple were sitting on the brown loveseat near the picture window, conversing in hushed tones. They quietened as soon as the trio entered. Spencer recognized the thickset blonde man with a ruddy complexion as Robert Wolfe. He lived in the neighbourhood, and was the Holbrook High field hockey coach. He was rude and straightforward, and Spencer liked the latter and hated the former aspect of his personality. His wife, Martha, was boring. That was all Spencer knew and she didn't want to further her knowledge.

"Mr. Cavanaugh and Ms. Hastings! We didn't know you were invited. What a wonderful surprise. I was just telling Martha how we were so happy to have Emily on the staff. She's just splendid." Rob winked at Emily, and it made Spencer's gut clench as she took the vacant seat next to Toby. Her head was reeling, and she felt sick.

There was another knock at the door and that gave Emily a good enough excuse to escape. She had noticed the nauseated look on Spencer's face. She had taken in every detail of her tensed posture; one clenched fist, another hand twitching nervously as if Spencer was counting something using it (Emily was familiar with this nervous trait and wondered what Spencer was currently cataloging in her head), the pouty bottom lip being assaulted by her perfect teeth (she stopped to wonder about the unnecessary mental adjectives), the eyes that seemed to be drawn in Emily's direction but that turned away before they could alight on her. It was honestly driving Emily crazy. In another world, Emily would crack a caffeine-related joke, and Spencer would visibly relax, but here, all she could do was stage an apologetic retreat as she went to the door and ushered in their other guest.

Or guests.

She ushered in two couples, meeting them for the first time. The dark haired one was probably the private detective Leonard Whitworth, with his gorgeous heiress girlfriend Sofia Rivebel. Then the other couple definitely had to be Aaron Knight, journalist and Jane Knight, the local librarian. Aaron worked at the same newspaper that Arianna did, and all Emily knew was they had matching tempers. Arianna had given her brief backgrounds about their guests (she might have also mentioned Toby in passing, but how was Emily to know that this Toby would be Rosewood's Toby?) and the afternoon's events had left her feeling a little bit (maybe, a lot) muddled.

She exchanged pleasantries with them, feeling like an automaton, while her thoughts were pulled towards the brunette in the other room, the one who was attracting her attention like a powerful lodestone.

* * *

Spencer was now tapping her leg with her long, tapered fingers, her gaze fixed at the doorway. When she saw a crowd (three's a crowd, right? There were too many people here and suddenly she felt suffocated) coming through the doorway into the living room. But one figure stood out as if a spotlight traced its movements. Emily.

Her heart twisted in her chest as their gazes locked. It had been too long. The resentment and bitter rage that she had felt when she'd seen Emily kissing Toby resurfaced and she felt something like a panic attack coming on. She tore her gaze from Emily's hypnotic eyes. (Her what eyes?) Spencer felt like she was losing her mind.

She sighed and tried to focus on the conversation that had suddenly filled the room.

"Yeah, the Mayor said in a press conference yesterday that the murders were being looked into-", a dark haired, brooding young man was saying, when Rob interrupted him. "You know politicians, they say anything and everything."

"Actually, the Mayor himself was the focus of a major attempted robbery last month-", a pale-faced, guy with pointy features broke in, pushing his glasses back on his hook nose.

Spencer couldn't focus at all on such a dull conversation. Toby seemed to be quite engrossed in the conversation (or perhaps he was acting? Shouldn't Spencer be doing the same?), and when she squeezed his hand, he looked at her, offering her a small smile as if to say, _It'll be over soon._

But soon wasn't now. And she needed to escape. Now.

"Guys, lunch is ready. Come out to the yard, it's a lovely day!", Arianna called out from somewhere within the house, and like robots, they terminated their conversation and filed out. Spencer sighed audibly, then froze, hoping no one had noticed her obvious relief.

"You go, I'll come", Spencer whispered to Toby as he walked out with raised eyebrows. She needed some time. Some time to figure this out.

She pulled out her wallet and arranged all her notes according to their serial numbers. She re-did it, now arranging it according to denominations. Then she decided that serial numbers was better. She pulled out all the visiting cards of her clients and alphabetized them before tucking them back in neatly. Usually, organizing made her feel better. Now, it did nothing at all.

She started working on the discarded wine glasses on the coffee table in front of her. She arranged them in a diamond pattern, then in a square, then a circle. Her hands were shaking, and her heartbeat was still elevated, but she focused on the task at hand, although it hardly required attention. She brushed the tassels on the pillows adorning the couches, so that all the threads faced one way. She arranged the coasters, even the rack of tissues. She started fiddling with the paraphernalia on shelves near the far wall (a photo of Emily and Arianna, a miniature Eiffel tower, a miniature Colosseum that Spencer knew wasn't accurate at all, a miniature British phone booth and red double-decker bus. She straightened things that didn't need straightening, she wiped some, she sighed and saw the red from the tourist souvenirs being echoed everywhere.

"Spencer?"

That voice. Too soon. Too late. Too...Emily.

"You have to come for lunch."

Spencer turned around. Emily was leaning against the door, playing with the hem of her short dress. Her hands distracted Spencer. They drew her gaze to parts of Emily that she once used to envy and which now she found irritating. Like everything about her. Her irritatingly perfect hair (why wasn't it chlorine damaged?), her irritating doe-eyed gaze that made her seem so demure and innocent, her irritatingly sweet expression. Everything annoyed her.

"Why are you here?" It sounded like an accusation. Perhaps Spencer meant it that way. She didn't know. Here did not mean the living room. Here meant here, in their lives. In her perfect world.

Emily rolled her eyes. The feelings of guilt had left her speechless before, but now she just couldn't stop herself. "I stalked you because I am obsessed with Toby and I'm trying to steal him from you because I am an idiot and I haven't noticed how sickeningly in love with you he is." Her bitterness and sharp-edged sarcasm surprised even her. She didn't know where this was coming from. (She did know. It was coming from the hole that Spencer had made inside her when she'd said _those things_ after Emily had done _that thing_ that she shouldn't have done. Things, _things_ that hurt both of them.)

Spencer gasped involuntarily, taken aback by this new side of Emily. Had she just used the term 'sickening' for Toby? It enraged her so much. What gave her the right to walk back in her life after trying to destroy it? No. Spencer wouldn't let her get away with it.

"Sickening? I'll tell you what was sickening. When I walked in on you slobbering over him. _That_ was sickening. _You_ are sickening." She threateningly approached Emily, and she felt victorious when she saw the taller girl flinch and almost cower. Almost.

Strike one.

"For someone so smart, Spencer, you can really be thick. You think I wanted your boyfriend? No, let me rephrase. You think I _still want _your boyfriend? You should really consider retaking an IQ test." It was a weak effort, Emily knew. But she didn't have it in her. She didn't want to hurt Spencer. And she was a little scared of Spencer. Just a little.

"My fiancé", Spencer corrected, wondering why she felt the sudden urge to stress the difference. She stepped right up to Emily, and grinned inwardly when she saw her shrink in front of her. _Oh yes_. "But you wouldn't know the difference, would you? I see things still haven't changed. Is your relationship with Arianna a sham too?" She had no idea why her words were laced with such poison, why she consciously decorated her words with barbs. All she knew that for some reason, the poison was rushing through _her _veins, and the barbs were scraping against _her _throat.

Strike two.

"You don't know me." There was a distinct quaver in Emily's voice. She had never truly faced Spencer's wrath before and it made her want to hide in a corner and hug the bitterness out of Spencer at the same time. She had often seen Spencer angry, but her rage had always been directed at someone else. Never Emily. Never like this. "You never did. If you had, you wouldn't have jumped to conclusions. You would've understood." She knew she was being cryptic and she knew puzzles drove Spencer mad, but she didn't care. If Spencer couldn't figure out the truth, then perhaps she didn't deserve the truth.

"I know what you did to me. And I'll never, ever forget. You stabbed me in the back. I never expected it from you. But I guess you're really good at hiding stuff, eh?", Spencer growled, feeling light-headed from all the emotions that she was feeling. She didn't want to do this, not really. But this new side of her was enjoying this immensely. It was like she had transformed into someone else. It was like all those years of bottled emotion had just been uncorked. She felt like she was going to explode. "I guess every Julius Ceaser must have a Brutus."

Strike three.

Emily's eyes instantly became glassy with unshed tears, but she did not let them roll down her cheeks. She blinked once, twice, then three times, slowly, as if she were falling asleep, and then brushed them away with the back of her hand. She wouldn't let herself fall apart under Spencer's scrutiny. No matter how hurtful Spencer's words were, no matter how accurate they were at finding her weak spots, she tried to tell herself that the rage was what she deserved for being such a coward all those years ago. She felt so weak under the constant fire of Spencer's words, and her armour of indifference was now riddled with holes through which her vulnerability showed. She felt her knees go weak and she went limp, glad that she had the wall against her back for support.

The silent show of forced strength was Spencer's undoing. The little creases of worry and controlled dismay around Emily's eyes stood out to Spencer, suddenly bathed in the stark light of compassion. She had seen this expression on Emily so many times before. When Emily had been the victim of A's cruel tricks, when she had to struggle with her sexuality. When Spencer had looked out of her car on her final journey out of Rosewood and seen Emily standing there, a static figure. The misery painted in Emily's teary eyes slowly coiled its tendrils around the monster inside Spencer, lulling it to sleep.

Was she really hurting this beautiful, fragile person in front of her? What had she turned into?

"Em." A simple syllable, but it forced Emily's eyes open, it made them widen with surprise as the intonation registered in her clouded mind. It wasn't an angry sound. It was a broken one. It was fractured, like Spencer's eyes, the crooked curve of her lips, and her slender, long (shaking) fingers that reached for her wrists and held them clinically, like she was measuring her stuttering heartbeat.

That's when they both heard footsteps echoing down the corridor.

* * *

**A/N: **_I really am not proud of this one. Meh._

_spinoza-off : Toby is perhaps too perfect for Spencer, and we'll see that later. And Emily's clash of love life and career are what will make her question her life and choices in future chapters._

_LaughLoveLiveXx: I absolutely adore dramatic irony, so I try to include lots of it. Glad you liked the chapter. x) And I hope the flashback solves a little of the mystery surrounding Spencer's actions._

_anon: Thanks a lot! And it might change! You'll just have to stay tuned. x)_


	4. Moonlight and Madness

**A/N:** _My chapters seem to get longer and longer. Sorry if it's too stretched! I kept amending and adding and subtracting, and got kind of carried away.  
(P.S. I'm not great with dialogue.)_

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Moonlight and Madness**

The footsteps seemed to flip a switch inside Spencer's head. She hastily withdrew her hand, and the look on Emily's face could only be summed up in a single word : _disappointed._ Spencer backed up slowly, and looked over Emily's shoulder. Toby stood behind her, his face painted with grey shadows and a strange look glinting in his normally clear blue eyes. For some reason, Spencer felt like she'd been caught in the middle of a crime. She had no reason to feel that way, obviously. (Except that maybe she had just been about to forgive Emily for that horrible thing that she had done but which suddenly didn't seem to matter to Spencer anymore.)

"They're all wondering where you two are." Toby's voice was quiet, like he was talking to a child. (Or a mental patient.) "I think you should come to lunch before they get...curious." It was obvious that he was taking his time to choose his words, and his eyes flicked back and forth between Emily and Spencer, like he was trying to understand what had been going on before his (unwanted) arrival.

(But shouldn't Spencer be relieved that Toby had rescued her from giving into her stupid sentiments? His presence reminded her of why forgiveness was out of the question. Really. She couldn't believe she had touched Emily. But she _wanted _to do it again. Ugh, emotions were so useless. Nothing more than clutter in her usually organized head.)

Emily flitted past Toby without a word, not before giving Spencer a look.

_Damn, the look_. It was all Spencer could do not to grab her wrists again. (She'd never ever done that before, not like that anyways.) The look of pained compassion, the look filled with blazing eyes and silent appeals.

The look that scorched a white-hot image in Spencer's vision and almost made her forget about Toby's presence.

"Were you fighting with her again?", Toby asked gently, raking a hand through his soft, wavy hair.

No! They weren't.

Wait, they were, weren't they?

Spencer could have denied it. But she didn't. She simply nodded mutely.

"Shall I tell them you're sick and we have to leave? I get how hard it's for you...I don't want you to sit through this if you don't want to." Toby was so, so sweet. But it did nothing to alleviate her feelings of regret. (Regret for what? She didn't know.)

"No, they'll just think it's weird. I haven't been myself, anyways. They probably already think I'm a mean old lawyer. Let's just get this over with." Her tone was brusque, and she tried to brush this incident off as if it wasn't crippling her reason, the very essence of her soul, and she smiled unconvincingly at him.

"Oh-kay. Let's go." He took her hand in his and led her to the yard, where the guests sat around a food-laden table on a beautiful patio. If the circumstances hadn't been so, well, strange, Spencer would've stopped to admire the beautiful plants that dotted the landscaped area, would've mentally listed the (Latin) names of the different flowers, would've paused to appreciate the detailing and precision of the layout.

They both took the only two empty seats at the table, and Spencer found herself sitting next to Martha. At least she wouldn't have to make conversation with this dull-looking woman. But to her dismay, Emily was directly opposite her. For some reason, she wasn't sitting next to Arianna who was at the head of the table, but was squeezed in between Leonard and Aaron. The detective seemed to be on a mission to engage her in conversation, but Emily was just ducking her head and mumbling monosyllabic responses, and Aaron had his head bent towards Arianna, both arguing loudly about some socio-economic issue (that Spencer had very strong views about but couldn't give a damn about right now). As soon as Spencer took her seat, Emily's eyes fluttered to hers, and Spencer hastily looked away, feeling awkward.

The food was cooked impeccably, and the wine matched everything on the menu, but Spencer might as well have been eating cardboard and sawdust. She didn't pretend to be a food critic (she'd wanted to be that when she was five, right before she'd decided that being the President was way cooler) like she usually did when she attended lunches, silently commenting on the quality of the food in her head and trying to guess the ingredients that had gone into making it. She was much busier covertly watching Emily over her wineglass, and then hurriedly looking away every time Emily so much as glanced in Spencer's general direction (which she did quite often, Spencer noted). Toby kept looking at her too, but Spencer didn't notice the concerned (and then confused) looks that he sent her way. He was trying to put up a good front, and not let any of the others notice the weird dynamics between the 'sweet new swimmer in Holbrook' and 'that sulking divorce lawyer who looked like she loved breaking up marriages'. (Both were borrowed descriptions, coined by other people, of course. Toby knew better.)

The hostess suddenly turned towards Spencer, catching her mid-bite. "So, Spencer. You've been quiet today. Work on your mind?", Arianna asked, trying to involve the forlorn looking girl in the conversations that surrounded her island of silence.

"Uhm. No..not really." Spencer tried to smile politely, but she was sure that it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm usually a quiet person." Another tight smile followed this incredibly untrue statement. Toby coughed next to her, and she thought she saw Emily's eyes flash with unguarded amusement.

Arianna smirked, like she could see through Spencer's pretense. "Emily's like that too. She's like a closed book. Written in a language I can't understand. Sometimes, I have to pry words out of her", she chuckled, glancing with affection at her girlfriend. Emily blushed, feeling uncomfortable. She was suddenly the subject of the table's scrutiny.

Oh, Spencer knew that. Emily had always been the most reserved of the group. And for that reason, the most mysterious. There'd been so many instances when Spencer had wanted to climb into her head and shuffle through her thoughts. She wanted to say how she'd known that little detail about Emily (and a lot more) before Arianna had even known of Emily's existence. But she clamped her lips shut and smiled (or more accurately, grimaced like a gargoyle) at her.

"Mystery is attractive", Aaron commented matter-of-factly, turning towards Emily for the first time that afternoon and reviewing her with a sudden admiration and curiosity. Spencer resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Did people have no shame these days? His wife was sitting less than two feet away.

"I'm not really mysterious. More like, dull. If I don't have anything valuable to contribute to a conversation, I..er, don't." Emily almost seemed apologetic, and she squirmed in her seat. Spencer snickered under her breath, then coughed to hide her amusement. Emily was anything but dull.

And Arianna seemed to share her opinion, because she was shaking her head quite emphatically. "You're hardly dull, babe. More like, we're not good enough to know what goes on in that pretty little head of yours." Her tone was playful, but her gaze had a new intensity to it.

Spencer looked away, suddenly feeling like she was witnessing a private moment, and hating it. (Why did she feel that horrible feeling in her stomach, like the one she got during plane take-offs and landings, as if the ground under her was suddenly, not there?)

Toby nudged Spencer quietly, leaning towards her to whisper, "You okay?". He'd probably noticed the tension in the taut lines of her profile, probably guessed (wrongly) at the source of it.

"Yep. Can we get out of here? I'm done eating." She was almost pleading, and she twisted her napkin between her hands, looking fixedly at the salt and pepper shakers on the table, ignoring the conversation going on at the table. Toby squeezed her arm, muttering a hurried "Wait."

Everyone was getting up. They'd finished eating too. The afternoon had seemed to stretch too long, but now that it was over, it seemed to be have encompassed nothing more than a blink of the eye.

All of them said their goodbyes, exchanged phone numbers and false (at least in Spencer's case) promises of more lunches and meetings like these, thanked their wonderful hostess for a beautiful meal and filed out of the house. Only two (and perhaps three) of them felt a little out of odds, felt like they were going through the motions, felt like the normalcy that they displayed was at a complete contrast to the underlying strangeness of the situation. And only two of them had heads whirling with confusing thoughts weighed down with guilt and regret (and anger and shame).

* * *

Emily was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom she shared with her girlfriend. She surveyed her long frame, the slight tremble in her lips, and her eyes that gave everything away. She sighed, beginning to take off her dress, when the bedroom door opened and Arianna strode in.

Her girlfriend paused, then walked up behind Emily, placing her hands on tanned shoulders. "They loved you." A simple phrase, but filled with pride, affection. Emily smiled in response, but her reflection in the mirror looked pained. "I knew they would", Ari continued, moving waves of dark hair out of the way, and kissed the nape of Emily's neck. Usually, this made Emily shiver, but all it did now was make her twitch with discomfort. Arianna was quick to pick up on this. She pulled back, her dark, almost black eyes piercing into Emily's through the mirror in front of them.

"I saw you looking at her, you know. Were you checking her out?" A smirk curled up Arianna's full lips, making her appear a little cruel, a little smug. "I didn't know she was your type."

Emily's eyes widened and she tried to calm the frenzied beat of her heart. She was sure her girlfriend could feel (or maybe hear) the drumming that resonated within her chest. "Who, Sofia? I wasn't." The rebuttal seemed weak, the refusal, automatic. "I have eyes only for you, babe. You know that." There, that would keep her happy. Right?

"Not that airhead." Ari now looked irritated, but amusement glinted in her eyes. "No, it's the lawyer I'm talking about. Spencer. Spencer Hastings. You couldn't stop staring at her. I noticed. Did you think I wouldn't?" Was that jealousy in her voice? Or something more sinister? Emily didn't know. She felt her nerves begin to chafe under this constant emotional erosion. She turned around, putting on her best innocent look. She knew just how to do it. Big wide eyes, the upturned mouth. It always worked.

"Was she that OCD brunette? Her boyfriend was cuter, and I'm not even straight", Emily chuckled (though it sounded like canned laughter from sitcoms).

"How do you know she's OCD?", Arianna arched an eyebrow, determined to dig under Emily's obvious distraction throughout the afternoon. "I mean, you both hardly spoke. Throughout lunch. You were too busy eye-fucking each other."

"Ari!" Emily looked scandalized, flushing at the term her girlfriend had just used. "No, I was late to lunch because I found her re-arranging your little knick-knacks. If I hadn't stopped her, she would've started moving the furniture. I think she was stressed..or something. Besides, do you really think I'd find anyone more attractive than you?"

"Well, you do have bad taste." Arianna laughed, flicking Emily's nose, then leaned in and rested her forehead against Emily's. "Or why would you have fallen for me?" Her eyes suddenly looked vulnerable, full of insecurities and uncertainties.

"I love you." Emily leaned in and kissed Arianna, trying to comfort her girlfriend. She was used to this by now. Arianna was perfect in many ways. She was successful, determined, headstrong. She was witty and funny (although her wit was sometimes rather caustic.) But she was also probably the most possessive person she had met. And she constantly looked for proofs of Emily's love. Like leaving the Olympics. But Emily pushed that thought out of her head, willing herself to forget about the past and look forward to building a future with the girl she loved. She could do it if she tried. Right?

* * *

The pale moonlight filtered through the curtains of Spencer's (and Toby's) bedroom, making the room look like a grayscale photograph. Spencer's side of the bed was the one closest to the window, but at this moment, that side was empty. Instead, Toby's bare arm was draped over her pillow, while the owner of the said pillow sat next to the window, the cogs turning inside her head.

She had been unable to sleep. She had pretended, at first. Toby never fell asleep unless he was sure that Spencer had drifted off into blissful oblivion. She used to find that cute. Tonight, it was beyond irritating. It meant that she had to stop fidgeting (which was _really _hard to do) and regulate her breaths to simulate sleep. She had to do this for about half an hour before she could feel him falling into his dreams. She'd then carefully got up, decided that pacing wasn't an option, and was now sitting next to the window, staring at a blank piece of wall.

The day had been so...strange. In the cold stillness of night, she found herself wondering whether it had been the byproduct of her overactive imagination. But it couldn't be so. Toby had been extra careful with her after the lunch, appeasing every whim of hers, smiling even when she snapped. And she had snapped. Many times. And it wasn't her fault really. How much could a girl take before she cracked?

This was too much. She needed air. She needed to move. She needed to...get out.

Spencer got up, walked into her closet and picked out a simple black shirt and a pair of jeans. She changed quietly, hoping Toby wouldn't wake up. Thank god he wasn't a light sleeper. She carefully closed the bedroom door behind her and slowly made her way downstairs, making sure none of the stairs creaked under her weight. She picked up her keys from the table next to the door and let herself out, locking the door behind her. She got inside her car, then paused. Where was she gonna go?

A drive wouldn't help her, she decided. She almost slammed the door of her car, but stopped herself just in time and shut it softly. Better not to take the car. The sound of the engine might wake her fiancé up. She looked up and down the road. Nobody was there, obviously. The road was deserted, and the asphalt had a silvery sheen to it because of the full moon that hung above it. Spencer broke into a brisk walk, heading for a park that she knew would be deserted at this time of the night. When she passed Arianna (and Emily's) house, she increased her speed, wanting to get past it as fast as she could.

She felt like a kid passing the Radley house in To Kill a Mockingbird. It was as if the inhabitants frightened her. (Honestly, one of them did, and she had no idea why.) She needed to stop thinking about that house and that afternoon and focus on the rhythmic sound of her footsteps. Order. Control. She needed all of that now.

The rusty gate of the park groaned in protest as Spencer swung it open, piercing the veil of silence that hung on the place. The trees were swaying gently against the wind, casting dancing shadows on the grassy ground. If this was Rosewood, she would've been freaked out to be here at night. But it wasn't. She felt safe. She hurried inside, walking on a familiar path, but not really paying attention to where she was going. The destination didn't matter; the journey did. She found walking therapeutic. As well as reading. But she wasn't in the mood to read. Fictional situations tended to mimic her reality and she didn't want to deal with her mind working along those lines.

Spencer was subconsciously taking in the stark beauty of the place around her. The foliage was dense in few parts, but mostly, the park was dotted with grassy clearings, benches and small artificial rock pools. There were a few picnic tables too, and strange shapes in the grass. Spencer stopped in her tracks, her eyes pausing over an unfamiliar shape in the middle of a clearing. It was a shape that looked almost human.

A dead body? Spencer's heart hammered in her chest like a caged bird trying to break free. No, it couldn't be. Not here. But they had been talking about murders during the lunch, her brain reminded her. But this..no. She had to investigate. She walked slowly towards the dark form that was partially hidden by the long, emerald stalks of uncut grass. She wished she had a flashlight, but she hadn't brought one because the night was well-illuminated by the full moon. She wanted to call out, but she kept quiet and neared the figure.

And when she was close enough, she realized that it was alive. And it was Emily.

"Oh", Spencer cried out, unable to check her relief. The sudden noise alerted the reposing figure, and Emily sat up, her eyes widening.

"Spencer? What, are you like stalking me?" Her tone was one of disbelief. And Spencer too felt like destiny (or whatever) was playing a cruel joke with them. Two encounters in one day? It was too much.

"Oh please. You wish." Spencer wanted to turn away, she really did. But instead, she sat down next to Emily, a move which startled the tanned girl extremely. Emily almost scooted away, as if Spencer was going to pin her down and start throwing punches. Spencer tried to smother a smile at her alarmed expression, and raised her hands (as close to a white flag as she would get). "What? I don't bite."

"You say that now." Emily grinned, then stopped herself, her face freezing and her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Why are you here?" She hoped that the other girl hadn't come over just to start another argument. She'd had enough of that for today. For ever.

"I could ask you the same question. And I'm guessing we'd have the same answers."

Spencer looked at the girl beside her. She didn't want to scare her away. She hated seeing that frightened look on Emily's face. She associated it with cruelty and this funny, grating feeling inside her that made her want to hurt something. Anyone who could frighten Emily (on purpose) had to be a monster. She surveyed her former best friend from under her lashes, looking at her as if seeing her for the first time. And it was, after all those years. She hadn't had the change to notice all the changes in Emily during lunch, she'd been too shaken, too caught up in the storm of her emotions. The moonlight painted silver highlights in the beautiful waves that framed Emily's face, mirroring the dark velvet of the sky. The girl beside her looked older, obviously, and it seemed like Emily had finally traded in her shyness for a cloak of confidence. And she wore it well. She seemed self-assured, more at ease with herself and that lifted Spencer's heart. She looked comfortable in her own skin, and honestly, it made her look so much more gorgeous.

Spencer willfully sabotaged her train of thought, derailing it before it could reach dangerous destinations. She was definitely losing her mind. She should be thinking of the poison tipped words they had shot at each other, the wounds they had created, they rift (that she once thought unbridgeable) of years and wrongs between them. She shouldn't be thinking of how Emily seemed to belong to the night, how the stars brought out the light in her eyes, how the inky sky was a perfect backdrop to her soft features.

"Stop doing that", Emily's quiet voice broke into her delusion, and a new expression lined her face. She looked bashful, her eyes partly lowered, her cheeks coloured with a demure tint.

"Doing what? I'm not doing anything", Spencer said hastily, wondering if this was the new start of their old fight. She didn't want to fight. She wanted to...she didn't know what she wanted. She'd come here to escape her thoughts (and Emily). But it seemed like she couldn't escape, no matter where she ran.

"You're..looking at me. Like..", Emily paused, taking a breath, looking unsure, her eyes unfocused, the stars dimming for a second, "...Like I'm a stranger. Like you're trying to recognize me."

Was that what it looked like? She had no idea.

"I'm sorry. I was just..", Spencer suddenly found herself questioning her own actions. What was she just doing? Why wasn't she fueling the rage that had lain dormant for years in her chest? Why was she kindling an entirely different kind of fire instead?

"It's okay. You don't have to explain", Emily quickly said, wanting to change the topic. (Was her heart beating just as fast as Spencer's? She suddenly found an urgent need to take her pulse.)

"It's just, you've changed. In a good way. You're still that old Emily, but you look different. More confident. You look...", she trailed off, ducking her head, feeling like she'd revealed too much of her thoughts. (Where was her anger? Where was that hurt, that rage? What were these new emotions that had her stumbling over words? Words had always been her friends, her allies.)

Emily found herself smiling and blushing, despite all her efforts (or perhaps, because of). Spencer always felt the need to explain things. Definitions, evidences, laws, they were what she was comfortable with. It wasn't like that with Emily at all. She usually let people think whatever they wanted to. Assumptions, inferences, hunches, were Emily's territory. Explanations never seemed to be worth the trouble for her. Now, she was smirking at Spencer, her eyes playful, "Confident? That must mean a lot coming from Spencer Hastings. You're like the poster girl for confidence."

Spencer gave in, letting her lips be lifted by the sudden warm feeling in her chest. She let her amusement show on her face, and she didn't deny the title Emily had just given her. The Hastings were conditioned to never be modest.

"I didn't feel very confident this afternoon", Spencer blurted out, then wondered where that came from. Why did she have to bring that up? It was going so well. This felt like some high school reunion and it was giving her a kind of a nostalgic high. It had been _too _long since she'd had a friend. (Someone who was not Toby. Or her alphabetized collection of historical novels and classic literature.)

"I didn't either." Emily looked down, her brow furrowing. Perhaps a confession was in order. Spencer didn't seem angry, didn't seem about to spew rage at her. Maybe now was her chance to admit to her mistakes.

"I need to tell you something. Please hear me out. Don't interrupt me. You can judge me afterwards." She felt almost guilty for adding the last line, but it had tumbled out. "I kissed Toby back then because A made me do it. A mailed my HGH reports to my mom and coach. A said they would stop it only if I kissed Toby. I didn't know you were there. I was going to explain it to you afterwards...I just needed to show it to A and I would've.." She paused, her cheeks flushed and her throat constricted. She could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes, but she tried to be strong. "I'm so sorry, Spencer."

Spencer blinked, stunned at the revelation. (But she wasn't, really.) Her brain taunted her. _You knew it was A's trick. You should have been smart enough to figure it out. _It made sense. How could she ever really believe that Emily would kiss her boyfriend behind her back? Or that Emily would be interested in Toby in the first place? Stupid Spencer Hastings. Gullible Spencer Hastings. She ought to burn all her college certificates. She ought to bury her trophies. What use were they if she couldn't use her common sense?

"Oh." She opened and closed her mouth like a goldfish, feeling suddenly bared in front of Emily.

"I never, ever wanted to hurt you Spencer, and it's okay if you never forgive me. I don't expect you to. But, just...even if I did like Toby, which I don't, I would never, ever steal him or even try to seduce him like that. I am the weakest link, I guess. Like A said. I shouldn't have done what I did. I..I guess we all had our weaknesses. And A used mine to get to yours." Emily was nervously tugging at the sleeve of her v-neck lilac sweater. She had guilt etched in the contours of her face, her lips pressed down to a thin line. "I am so-"

"Shut up." Spencer suddenly murmured, and she jumped forward. Emily gasped, shrinking back, afraid of physical assault. She knew Spencer would never willingly hurt her, but maybe she was wasn't thinking right. She expected a slap, or some kind of tussle, but instead she felt slender arms wrap around her waist, and something wet on her shoulder. Tears?

"Spence..?", Emily squeaked, taken aback. She felt the skinny girl hug her as if her life depended on it, while her delicate frame trembled with choked sobs. She felt the bridge of a nose against her collarbone, and eyelashes beating like butterfly wings against her shoulder. Emily felt the barriers keeping her emotions in control crumble, and her own eyes flooded with tears. Tears that she had held in for so long. Tears that seeped into her dreams where her guard was down and washed every happy memory away with regret and pain. Only now, these tears felt like release. They were tears of relief. She felt like a big burden had been lifted off from her shoulders, and the fact that Spencer was here, Spencer wasn't mad, Spencer wasn't judging her, that Spencer was _hugging _her, was something that made her feel lucky to be alive.

They stayed that way, for a few minutes (or what felt like a few days), and then Spencer lifted her face, liquid silver clinging to her lashes, pooling in her brown eyes, mixed with the same relief that was pumping through Emily's veins. That's when Emily realized they had never cried in front of each other like this.

"I..er. I want to apologize", Spencer winced at the hoarse sound that came out of her lips. Her voice sounded rusty with disuse, it floundered around the words that she hardly ever used. "I'm..sorry. I've been so terrible to you." She felt truly ashamed, and she kept her eyes downcast, hoping that it would make her look apologetic enough.

The sight made Emily chuckle. "Stop, Spence. You look funny when you say sorry." She poked her friend in the stomach, trying to elicit a laugh from her, trying to erase the still repentant look on her face.

"I'm trying to figure out if that's a compliment or an insult." Spencer scrunched up her nose, wiping her tears away. "I bet I look awful now." She hated crying. It made her eyes go all red and puffy, and her nose feel all peppery, like she was going to sneeze.

"Ehm. Define awful." Another giggle, this time sounding and looking exactly like the Emily from Spencer's memories. Her eyes were lit with amusement, and her cheeks were dimpled. She always got so excited when she was happy. Like a puppy. Or a kitty. Only, a hundred times cuter than those.

"Ugh, no. Don't do that", Spencer groaned, falling back on the ground and looking up at the clear, night sky.

Emily laid down too, resting her head on her hand and looking at Spencer's highlighted profile. "Do what? I didn't do anything."

Spencer turned her face towards Emily, her gaze caressing every inch of her face. "Don't look so damn gorgeous." Her voice was scratchy, husky. It made Emily shiver, although the night wind was anything but cold. Spencer's eyes widened as she realized what she'd said. "I mean, you're so beautiful, it's not fair. I wish I looked like you." There, she'd saved that one.

Emily could feel blood rushing to her face. She hoped it wasn't clear how much that seemingly simple compliment had affected her. _Damn, she was just being friendly. _Emily wondered why her heart had skipped a beat at the reckless statement, why her eyelashes has fluttered, why she had inched her face closer to her best friend's. God, her brain really seemed to be malfunctioning today. The emotional roller-coaster had left her feeling wobbly, and left her reasoning impaired. That must be it.

"I'm sure Toby would disagree with that. I bet he thinks the sun rises and sets with you", Emily teased, hoping that the mention of Toby would make them both snap out of whatever this was. "You are beautiful in your own way, Spencer Hastings", she whispered in a low, unsure voice. She wondered if Spencer had even heard it.

"He liked you first." It was said simply, with an aching honesty and without a trace of resentment. "You were the one he wanted to be with, out of all of us."

"But he loves you now. And that's what matters, right?", Emily tried, almost laughing when she remembered the time when Toby and her had a 'thing'. She remembered how Spencer's eyes had silently tried to warn her at homecoming, how she could feel her best friend's eyes following her everywhere that night. It had annoyed her then, but now she knew it was only because she wanted to watch out for her best friend.

Spencer was thinking of that exact night. She was thinking of how she'd been consumed with worry about Emily. She'd even given Alex the cold shoulder because she was too concerned about her best friend. It made her feel a little mad at herself. She'd always sworn to murder anyone who hurt Emily. But suicide was certainly not an option, was it? Oh, the irony.

"Yeah, that's what matters", she replied, a beat too late, with too much of a sigh and unsaid messages in between her words. Her eyes pierced into Emily's, and her hand reached out in the space between them, slowly knocking against Emily's knuckles, her fingers slipping (with surprising familiarity) into the spaces between Emily's fingers. "And what also matters if that my best friend is here, right now." She said the words slowly, the syllables rolling on her tongue, sliding between her lips and lazily escaping into the cool midnight air. She packed them with all the emotions she could, trying to convey what she couldn't say. (The words that escaped even her.)

Emily felt her heartbeat elevate once again, but she mumbled some unintelligible response, her mind suddenly shifting back to Arianna's words. _Were you checking her out? _It was funny. Really. Why would she check Spencer out? Spencer was her friend. Her best friend. She didn't need to. She had already known every curve, every bend beneath the dress she'd worn that afternoon. (They'd changed in front of each other innumerable times. It's not like she had looked. It's just something her subconscious absorbed. You know, like something she didn't really look at but remembered. She would never check Spencer Hastings out!) Stop. Why was she thinking of that now? It was silly.

"We, we need to go. Home, I mean. I mean, I need to go. Arianna will wake up, it's really late", Emily broke the silence of their thoughts, mixing up her words in her hurry to get them out. "I..we should do this again sometime. I mean, not like this. At midnight. Unless you want it to be...at midnight." The sudden stutter of her words made Spencer chuckle, and drew a sheepish grim from Emily. She took a deep breath, trying to calm all her whirling thoughts and sudden dread, and sat up straight and disentangled her fingers from Spencer's.

"Yeah, you're right. I hope Toby didn't notice I was gone." It was more of an automatic response. Spencer wasn't really worried. Toby never questioned her actions, never asked for explanations. It was kind of convenient, really. "Come on, let's walk back together", she offered, reaching for Emily's hand again with a smile on her lips.

"No!", Emily protested quickly, thinking of Arianna catching them, thinking of her jealousy, her curious questions, then tried to relax. "I mean, no need." Spencer quirked an eyebrow at that. It wasn't as if she was going out of her way to walk Emily home. They lived on the same street. Emily noticed her confusion, and let out a breath. "Actually, the thing is, Ari kind of saw us looking at each other. She wondered if we were flirting or something. Stupid, really. I couldn't tell her the truth, of course...", she paused, cheeks scarlet with embarrassment, "It's funny...er..her thinking that..you _know_. So if she saw us coming back home at this hour, she'll put two and two together and come up with five."

Spencer paused, withdrawing her hand suddenly as if she'd touched something hot. Arianna thought _what__?_ How absurd. Really. The thought was hilarious. (Then why wasn't she feeling the urge to laugh?) Emily's girlfriend was irritating Spencer more and more, and she hadn't even spoken more than a few stock phrases to her. But she understood the jealousy. If Emily were her girlfriend, she'd be doing everything to keep her away from others with wandering eyes. But Emily wasn't. So she shouldn't even be thinking along those lines.

"You know what? I'll even give you a ten minute head start", Spencer grinned, trying to display her amusement at Arianna's misplaced jealousy. "I'll just enjoy the night a little more. Or the early morning." She stepped forward and kissed Emily's cheek, and felt the other girl stiffen and then melt (not melt, why would she be melting?) under her touch. "Good night, Em", she whispered, and stepped back.

"Good night, Spence." Emily looked giddy with ecstasy, and almost tripped on a stray branch as she turned around. Stupid, stupid runaway emotions. She knew feeling happy over getting her best friend back wasn't abnormal. But it was hindering her movements (and straying her thoughts down unknown lanes). She glanced back once more, waved at the small form of the brunette, and quickly made her way home.

* * *

**A/N:** _Let me know if I'm not completely terrible with resolutions. Haha. _

LaughLoveLiveXx: _No break up, as of yet. But I hope you liked the (short-ish) talk? x) Spencer's intelligence is probably my favourite aspect of her character. (I'm a lot like her, minus the OCD and the gorgeousness, of course.) She does heavily rely on literature to convey her emotions as she's not really comfortable with them as much as the others._

dmpanda5 : _Thanks a lot! I'll try to update as much as possible. x)_

x-sugarfree-x :_ Spencer isn't cruel, more like callous. She speaks her words before understanding the effect they'll have on the other person. Grief seems to bring out the darker side of her for sure. _


	5. The Devil Is In The Details

**Chapter 5 - The Devil Is In The Details**

The world was a murky, grey place. Spencer's movements were slow, her arms swinging like weights as she moved through the thick air, pushing against a smoked-glass door and into a cafe. Everyone was moving as if swimming through molasses, and time itself seemed to be crawling by, weighed down by lethargy. Something was not quite right.

But that didn't matter now. The cafe was busy, the air inside tickling Spencer's nose with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttery croissants. Ah, the smell of fairy-tales.

"Bonjour, mademoiselle", the thin, elegant old lady at the counter called to Spencer, her eyes sparkling with familiarity. "Un café noir, comme d'habitude?", she asked, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she smiled.

"Oui, Maurine, merci." Spencer's answer came instantly, as if she'd been saying it all her life. She swung her slender body into a chair in the corner of the coffee shop, her favourite seat, by the ceiling to floor glass windows. She loved watching the people walk by, all in wrapped up in their busy schedules, hurrying towards a particular destination. She felt a great sense of satisfaction, knowing that all she had to do was sit here and pen her thoughts. Life was _that _easy. Being a journalist had its perks.

The grey world seemed to lose more colour, like it was being leached of life. Somewhere in the distance, an ominous rumbling heralded the sudden onslaught of rain that drummed against the glass window. The sound soothed the questions in her mind. Spencer looked out at the water rolling down the frosted surface, the picture of busy pedestrians washing away like wet paint.

A bell tinkled, and the door of the cafe opened once again. Surely, it was someone who wanted to take shelter from the shower. But Spencer's eyes still lifted with hope, and she saw a familiar figure walk through the doorway. Again, sluggish movements. As if life was happening frame by lazy frame. In agonizing slow motion, Emily Fields walked with purpose and joined Spencer at her table.

Life certainly was a French film. With exquisite cinematography. The lens of her vision zoomed in on the wet hair that curled at the base of Emily's neck, the beads of moisture that clung to her smooth skin, the tip of the tongue that darted out to lick full lips, the sheer white shirt that clung to every single (heartbreaking, teasing) curve. The camera of her eyes panned slowly to the graceful curve of a (bared by water) shoulder, the trail of water disappearing under the hollow between collarbones, the corners of lips curled up with smirk. There were cameos by delicate wrists, the hem, no, the corner of a skirt, legs (that went on for days, months, years). Unhurried close-ups of dark, enticing shadows that clung to wet lashes, and eyes, smouldering coals, that set fire to the rainy morning.

Oh. God.

"Spencer". Emily was mouthing her name, but an unexpected baritone came out of her lips.

"Spencer! Spencer, wake up!" Suddenly she was toppling over in her chair, falling through empty air as the world hung in a freeze-frame around her, and her head hit something soft. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with wool, and she felt her airways blocking. She couldn't breathe. (Were the credits rolling already?)

She was lying on her stomach, her face buried in her pillow, her hair a tangled mess, and Toby was slowly shaking her shoulders. Spencer Hastings rolled over to her back, squinting in the bright sunlight that bathed her bedroom. Their bedroom.

"What? I-", she sat up, rubbing her eyes. Oh. She'd been dreaming.

"You overslept, babe. Like, a lot. I'd say good morning, but it's almost afternoon now. What was it, nightmares keep you up? I was sure you'd fallen asleep", Toby murmured, concern filling his eyes as he patted the small of her back comfortingly.

"No. No nightmares." Spencer suddenly found herself wishing that she'd been awoken from nightmares. That would have been easier to deal with. Instead, she had each lucid detail from her 'dream' stuck in her head, each image taunting her. She groaned and fell back on the bed, shutting her eyes. She wanted it to come back. No, of course she didn't.

"Well, you're breathing all funnily. And let's see...", Toby grabbed her wrist, pressing his fingers against her pulse point, "...you have an accelerated pulse rate." A mischievous smile broke out on his lips. "Was someone having sexy dreams about her studly fiancé?" He wiggled his eyebrows exaggeratedly, then kissed her knuckles.

"No! I don't even remember it. And you shouldn't be becoming so conceited", Spencer hastily said, turning a deep shade of crimson. His guess had hit too close to home. (No, it hadn't. You were just dreaming about your best friend whom you made up with last night, her brain interrupted. There's nothing wrong with that. At all.)

"Oh, so was it someone else?", Toby feigned a pout, knowing that would make Spencer melt. "Any competition I need to eliminate?" He narrowed his eyes, an air of seriousness suddenly surrounding him as he tried to look all business-like.

Spencer's eyes widened. She forgot all about her rule of not kissing without brushing, forgot about all her worries about morning breath and hygiene. She sprang up and pressed her lips against Toby's, anxious to make him stop talking. The kiss felt too forced, too unnatural, but Toby didn't notice. His plan had worked, after all. Spencer pulled back and smiled sweetly at him. "You have no competition at all. Even in my dreams." But was she reassuring Toby, or herself?

* * *

At that exact time, Emily Fields was walking out of her shower, clad in nothing but a fluffy, cream-coloured towel, which was wrapped tightly around her torso. Her girlfriend, Arianna, was sitting on the bed with a tub of Ben & Jerry's Cookie Dough Ice Cream, flipping through a well-worn copy of _The Story of Philosophy _by _Will Durant. _Arianna's dark eyes immediately rose from the book, and gazed appreciatively at the sight in front of her.

"Jeez, your beauty always surprises me, Em."

"And your sloppiness always surprises me, Ari", Emily retorted, chuckling as she gestured towards the ice cream marks on her girlfriend's black tank-top. Arianna frowned, trying to look disgruntled, but feeling fuzzy inside. Emily's laugh was the cutest thing about her, and she felt like she could listen to it for days. "What did I say about pre-lunch desserts?", Emily tried to scold her girlfriend, shaking her head as she wandered over to her wardrobe.

"Here I am, trying to pay you a compliment, and you make fun of me. Cruelty, thy name is Emily!", Arianna groaned, tailoring a Hamlet quote to suit her needs. "You are really cruel though. I think I should make a new rule in this house. No towels allowed. None whatsoever. This one's seriously impeding my vision", she complained. "And you didn't even invite me to join your sexy shower. Bad girlfriend."

"Is your mind ever out of the gutter?", Emily asked, honest curiosity mingled with a teasing playfulness in her voice. She dropped the towel (which made Arianna's jaw do the same), and put on underwear, much to Arianna's too evident disappointment.

"How can it be if you keep being such a tease?", Arianna pouted, abandoning her forgotten (and completely melted) ice cream. She jumped up to Emily's side, and smothered her neck with kisses, dodging Emily's reluctant pushes and shoves.

"I'm not a tease", Emily whispered quietly, her eyes flashing with delight. "You're just too horny. You act like a hormonal teenager around me."

"Well, maybe that's because you make me feel that way. All the _fucking _time", Arianna replied in a husky tone, proceeding to undo all of Emily's efforts at getting clean and dry, while the ice cream turned to liquid.

* * *

Spencer was at the local library, square reading glasses perched upon her nose as she walked past shelves of thick tomes. She was in the Psychology section, a part of the library that she'd never thought of frequenting before. It was almost evening now, and Toby had excused himself to his shed, claiming that he had some important drawings to do for a patio he was designing. Spencer had teased him, claiming that he was competing with her for the workaholic title.

But she had been secretly annoyed. She didn't want to be left alone. 'An idle mind is the devil's workshop' was the phrase she had heard a lot. In Spencer's case, it was completely the opposite. She thought too much. And now she was obsessed with analyzing her dream. (Even thinking of it left her with a dry mouth and a throbbing heart, but she tried to pass those off as side effects of confusion.)

The dream had to have some deeper meaning to it, she was sure. It was obviously not to be taken at face value. Maybe the whole French coffee shop and rain and Emily (oh, dear God, Emily) were an elaborate allegory for work related stress. Or something. Maybe her and Toby weren't having sex enough. God, she did feel frustrated. But it was a mental frustration too. (Although the physical part made her want to die.) She needed to stop, stop analyzing everything so much. But she couldn't help it. This was who she was. She loved picking things apart, she loved knowing what made everyone tick. Now she wanted to know what made her tick. Or her dreams, to be more precise.

Spencer finally spied the volume that she'd been searching for, and let out a sound of victory. It was _The_ _Interpretation of Dreams _by none other than the famous psychoanalyst, Sigmund Freud himself. She'd figured it would help her understand the meaning behind the dream that refused to leave her mind.

She took a seat in a shaded alcove, and started leafing through the book. It began,

_"In the following pages, I shall demonstrate that there exists a psychological technique by which dreams may be interpreted and that upon the application of this method every dream will show itself to be a senseful psychological structure which may be introduced into an assignable place in the psychic activity of the waking state..."_

She sighed, already feeling her thoughts begin to drift away. Certain images lingered in her mind, like an echo of the visual feast that had been offered to her by her subconscious. She focused her mind elsewhere, like the fact that she'd been certainly happy as a journalist. This, obviously, could be taken at face value. She'd always wanted to be a journalist, but she'd taken law to keep her parents happy. A small sacrifice, it had seemed, at that time. Her parents had strongly objected to their daughter being in a relationship with a carpenter, but she'd brought them around. If she'd even given up law, she was sure her parents would have done something drastic like disown her. And she hadn't wanted to lose her claim on being a Hastings. No matter how much she complained about her family, she still loved them.

Her mind flipped on to the next thing on her mental list. Emily. (How did she end up on the list?) Spencer could think of an extremely reasonable explanation for her inclusion in the dream. It obviously meant that she was happy that at least one of her old friendships was on the mend. There couldn't be another interpretation, right? She was sure Freud would agree. She didn't even have to read the book to figure that one out.

Again, the images came flooding back, arresting her thoughts, storming through the well-guarded gates of her mental fortress. They attacked her with strange feelings. The symptoms Toby had diagnosed that morning (or afternoon) were making a reappearance. No, Spencer. Think about something else. Where was that self control of hers? She couldn't possibly be lingering over details. (Like how the shirt had been so soaked that it resembled cellophane, how she could see the blurry outlines of a lacy camisole through it. Emily's fingers, how they had rested within touching distance of Spencer's hands.) These thoughts had to be banished.

"Ahem." A cough echoed, sounding really close to her. Ugh, people. Did no one respect the sacred silence of libraries anymore? Humanity was certainly coming to an end. She sighed and returned to her rain soaked thoughts, slipping blissfully into the not so analytic replay of her dream.

"Spencer." The cough sounded a lot like her name. Spencer whipped her head up, her features twisted into a mask of annoyance. Arianna stood next to her, smiling apologetically at her. She didn't look scared at all, even though Spencer knew her own eyes were flashing with irritation. It earned her a little of Spencer's respect. Just a little. People usually wilted under the famous Hastings glare.

"Oh, hi. It's you." Spencer forced a smile and gestured to the empty seat next to her. "Why don't you sit down?", she offered out of mere politeness. She hoped the girl wouldn't accept.

She did.

"Are you into Freud? I love him. He's a little mad, really. But all the best people are, right? His theories are a bit...strange. But I love reading about psychology, and he's the one I read when I got introduced to the topic. I often wander here and read about the topic." Arianna's eyes were alive, and she moved her hands around a lot, talking with enthusiasm. It was obvious that she truly loved the subject.

"Huh", was Spencer's intelligent response. All of this threw Spencer a little. She didn't know Emily was into the intellectual type. But then, she really didn't know Emily's type at all. (Hanna would know, but the quirky blonde was nowhere around. Spencer was suddenly filled with an aching sense of absence in her chest.) She'd always assumed that Emily was attracted to girls like Samara or Maya. Or even Alison. Girls with lot of spunk, but no real substance. (In Spencer's opinion.) But Arianna seemed really...book-smart. Really different.

"I'll take that as a tentative no", Arianna grinned, her eyes glinted with hidden amusement, an eyebrow arched at Spencer's obvious muddled state of mind.

Spencer didn't like it at all. Did the other girl think she was stupid? "I'm more of a history person myself. I tend to read about real things, rather than theories. Life altering things", she clarified, her eyes answering the questioning smirk on the journalist's face.

"Hmm. Then what led you to _The Interpretation of Dreams_? Are we trying to understand abstruse symbolism behind strange subconscious escapades?", Arianna inquired, curiosity lighting up the caverns of her eyes. Spencer snorted mentally. This girl spouted words like a talking thesaurus. Then she wondered if that was what she sounded like to others.

"No-oo", Spencer stretched out the syllable, as if prolonging the word would really back her denial. "Simple curiosity."

The tanned girl didn't seem satisfied with the response, but didn't press it. "What did you think of Emily?", she asked instead, hoping to get more than stock phrases out of the intelligent-looking girl sitting in front of her.

"Wh-what? I mean, why does it matter what I thought of her?", Spencer's eyes widened, wondering if Emily had gotten caught returning home after their midnight rendezvous. Did Arianna suspect something? (Not that something illicit was going on, Spencer added to herself.)

"I mean, she's new around here, so I was just asking. No need to get all flustered."

"I'm not flustered. Simply...", Spencer groped around for words, "..surprised." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "You two seem pretty much in love", she ventured, her eyes boring into Arianna's bottomless ones.

"We are." A simple acknowledgement. But underneath those two simple syllables, Spencer thought she could hear slight undertones of bragging. Arianna looked cocky, and although her lips were expressionless, her eyes danced in the dim light of the dusk. She leaned forward, her hands forming a steeple. "I think Em and I are perfect for each other. Don't you?" Was that a metaphorical throwing of the gauntlet? Spencer remembered Emily's words from the night before. Arianna had definitely mistaken the tension between her and Emily as some sort of a chemistry.

"Yeah, you seem like it. Just like Toby and I. I just can't imagine life without him. He's so perfect", Spencer cooed, feeling like she was back in school, working on her lines for drama club. Wasn't there a time when these lines came naturally to her? What had changed? (She knew the answer.)

Arianna seemed satisfied by the display of affection. "Yeah, Toby talks about you non-stop. He's so smitten. When's the wedding?", she asked idly, now distracted because her main purpose of interrogation was done.

The wedding. Oh, the wedding. She was engaged. Right. Not like she had forgotten or something. Not like she'd wondered what the hell Arianna was on about.

"We're taking it slow. We'll look for the right moment. Work's been harsh for both of us, so it'll be a while before we can take some time off. But rest assured, you and Emily will definitely get an invitation when the time comes", Spencer replied with a smile that sat awkwardly on her lips, like too-tight clothes, or a loose ring.

"We'd love to see you guys get married. I definitely think Toby would look quite handsome when he's not covered in sawdust." Arianna's mind was shifting from the conversation already, and Spencer could sense the other girl's inattention. "So, I've got to go. I just came to return a book. Emily will be wondering where I've been off to. It was really nice talking to you, Spencer. Goodbye." She rose, offering her hand to Spencer as a parting. Her grip was firm, and that sly challenging look was back in her eyes momentarily as she focused on her goodbye.

"Same here. Freud had begun to bore me, really. I think I'll look for something more suited to my palate next time. See ya later", Spencer responded, shaking her hand and rising herself. She watched the girl swagger down the aisles without a second look behind her shoulder, wondering what Emily saw in her.

* * *

**A/N:** _Yep, short chapter. Y'all must be thrilled. This is kind of a filler, really. I apologize for things being quiet on the Emily front, but I really went into Spencer-mode while writing this. (And sorry if I suck at dream sequences. I tried to portray the 'real but not real' thing we all feel while dreaming. Or maybe that's just me. _

_spinoza-off: I honestly adore your reviews. :) And I'm so glad you picked up on that. Arianna is basically Spencer in a different life. Which is why Spencer can't stand her. In my opinion, Toby's a lot like Emily, personality wise. They're both shy and sweet, both silent and misunderstood (Emily, due to her earlier confusion with her sexuality). So I thought Emily's love for someone who was a lot like Spencer would make her see what she was actually craving. _

_064548:__ Thanks a lot. Yeah, Spencer did overreact, and Emily too didn't try to clear up the confusion. Trust me, things aren't going to be easy at all for these two. And jealous Spencer will soon make an appearance. xD_

_angelgirl201: Thank you very much! :)_


	6. A Blast From The Past

**A/N:** _Oh-kay. For those of my readers that do not like Arianna, beware. This short-ish chapter is Ari-centric. _

* * *

**Chapter 6 - A Blast From The Past**

Arianna Ashdown Capello was chewing on a pen as she sat at one of the outdoor coffee shops at the Holbrook train station. Her eyes kept flicking up periodically to check the time on a giant clock that hung over the main entrance. It was a quarter to one, and she was beginning to grow weary of waiting. Impatience was one of her (many) flaws.

She was here to pick up a wealthy industrialist who had gotten involved in the latest series of burglaries and mysterious disappearances around the town and its neighbouring hamlets. The businessman had a sprawling mansion in one of Holbrook's richest and least inhabited neighbourhoods. He had personally asked Arianna to take his interview, because he knew that she was the only one who would keep his identity anonymous and provide a (fairly) objective version of his side of the story. Well, right now, Arianna had a good mind to go back to her office and write a scathing article stripping bare all the dirty secrets that this certain tycoon kept in his closet full of skeletons. Calm down, she needed to calm down. Her temper always got the better of her.

A train from New York City pulled in, the fifth that she had seen, and she hoped that this one was the one her source had decided to travel by. He was taking the train to preserve his anonymity, as he'd felt sure that certain 'stalkers' would follow his car (which was probably a limo or something just as flashy) everywhere. Sure enough, she could make out a tall man with salt and pepper hair, a long overcoat (although it was getting hot already), and clad in an obviously tailor-made three piece suit. Well, at least the man had style. She prized good dressing sense, in men and women, and this helped ease some (not all) of her irritation. She got up from her seat, abandoning her half-drunk cup of coffee, laid down a few dollar bills, and hurried down the platform, waving her hand to get his attention.

The crowd thinned as the passengers exited through the gates and Arianna found herself face-to-face with not one, but two figures. One of them, she knew. She'd been expecting him. The other one looked so familiar that her heart lurched.

Jesus Christ. It couldn't be, could it? But she'd never met her before. How would she know?

"Ms. Ashdown!", the man (who must not be named) boomed, clapping Arianna hard on the back as some sort of primeval greeting that most probably would leave her with a bruise. "Shall we get down to business?", he asked, taking out a cigar and lighting it. "You don't mind if we do it here, right? At some discreet little cafe? My treat", he chortled, and started walking towards the coffee shop that Arianna had spent the better part of the day at.

"I brought my friend's daughter along. She needed a change of scenery, and had to get her nose out of those thick textbooks. I hope you don't mind. I trust her with all my secrets, it's not like she'll go and tell on me. Will you, Danielle?", he laughed, messing up the brunette locks of the girl who had accompanied him. The same girl who was staring at Arianna as if she'd seen a ghost (or someone out of a half-forgotten dream.)

"No, Uncle Jack", the girl named Danielle replied, forcing a smile.

This was too much of a coincidence. (Or perhaps, it was proof that Arianna didn't need.)

"Shall we start?", 'Uncle Jack' asked, once they'd settled in at a table for three and ordered their coffees. (Arianna wanted to drown in caffeine, maybe then her stupid delusions would clear. It couldn't be her. Could it?)

"Yes", Arianna replied, taking out her notepad and slim recorder, her hands shaking. She couldn't mess this up. She wouldn't. Certainly not because of someone who could be the girl that had run away with her heart more than eight years ago.

* * *

Emily had just gotten home when she heard the front door open slowly, hesitantly. She set her bag full of swimming gear down on the floor, expecting her girlfriend to come inside and fill up the room with her personality. She knew the drill. Arianna would exclaim with surprise, as if she still hadn't gotten used to seeing Emily around in her house, then she would attack her with kisses, all the while murmuring things like how much she had missed her.

But things weren't going to happen that way today. A scowling Arianna walked in, her features twisted with some unreadable emotion. She didn't even seem to notice Emily, and instead tossed her satchel on the couch, and started to make her way upstairs.

"Hey, babe. How was work today?", Emily trilled, her eyebrows knitted with confusion. What the hell was going on?

Only silence answered her, and then a loud bang. Their bedroom door. She heard drawers being opened upstairs, followed by several more bangs. It sounded like a tornado had hit her house. Emily sighed, and ran upstairs, pausing at their door which had probably rebounded off the frame and opened again. Inside, she saw opened wardrobes, clothes all over the floor, sheets of paper tossed as if by a storm, and an empty rucksack on the bed.

"Ari, what's wrong?", Emily whispered hesitantly, fearing the onslaught of Arianna's infamous anger. Again, the stoic silence taunted her.

Arianna ignored her and started stuffing her clothes into the backpack, a muscle twitching in her jaw. Her face was impassive, but her eyes looked like black, stormy waves caught up in a deadly whirlpool. Emily ached to reach out to her and comfort her, but she was scared. She had never seen this side of her girlfriend. Silence was something one never expected from Arianna Ashdown Capello. When the two had first met, Arianna had come off as a shy, introverted girl who seemed to be anything but social. Emily had assumed that finally she'd met someone just like herself. But the more she got to know her, the more she realized that Ari was only shy to people she didn't know. As soon as she got familiar with somebody, there was no stopping her. She was opinionated, and she always felt the need to voice her opinions (even if they were inappropriate or hurtful).

"You have to talk to me. You can't ignore me forever, you know", Emily tried to be the voice of reason, hoping that her compassion showed in her voice. She couldn't understand the taller girl's behaviour. What could have gotten her in such a bad mood? Another fight with Aaron? Some stupid socio-economic issue?

Arianna froze, a gray jacket dangling from her hand, and looked up at her. When their gazes locked, Emily felt an uncomfortable sensation slither down her backbone. Her girlfriend's eyes were brimming with a silent plea. _Stop. Talking._

When Arianna finished packing, she picked up her bag, grabbed an armful of old novels from the shelves lining the walls, and strode past Emily as if she were nothing but a piece of furniture. Not even a second glance. Nothing.

Resentment bubbled up inside Emily. She couldn't help feeling it, and she felt a voice screaming inside her head. She was her girlfriend, for god's sake! How could Arianna just pack up and leave like she was nothing? She was being treated worse than some pet. That's when she noticed a bright yellow Post-It stuck to the mirror. It had been scrawled over, with a hasty hand, with Emily's favourite lipstick (that had been tossed to the floor, open). It read:

**Be back in few days. Something came up. Don't fret. -A**

The familiar letter still managed to send a chill down Emily's spine but she ignored that. The note was so impersonal. Clinical. Robotic. (No goodbyes, no 'I'll explain later's, no 'I love you's.)

She was sick of this. She heard an engine revving, and the squeal of tires on asphalt. Emily scrunched up the note, tossed it over her shoulder as she bounded downstairs and raced outside, slamming the front door behind her. Arianna's black SUV was backing out of their garage with reckless speed, but Emily was fearless. She ran to the driver's side of the car and smacked her palm against the glass. "Get out! We need to talk. You can't just run away", she yelled, ignoring the stares from the couples that were walking past. A dog barked somewhere in the distance.

Arianna didn't even glance in her direction, and instead reversed the big vehicle with surprising speed and agility, forcing Emily to jog to keep up with her. Emily kept banging on the window, hoping to get her attention, as she kept yelling. "Please, stop! Ari!"

The car accelerated, almost knocking her over as it drove away. "You can't just leave! I'm your fucking girlfriend!", Emily screamed, not noticing the fact that she was cursing (she rarely ever used swear words), not noticing the curious looks from old ladies out on a pleasant evening stroll. She didn't even see the BMW X6 that slowly moved to the wrong side of the road and stopped beside her. All she saw was red. The world was scarlet.

The bang of a car door broke her out of her frozen state. She looked up and saw Spencer in front of her. Her best friend was clad in a tailored suit and a fitted pencil skirt, looking very serious and business-like. She had clearly been on her way home. Emily suddenly felt self conscious. Had Spencer seen her break down? She wondered what the brunette thought, and felt herself growing hot with embarrassment over her earlier lack of self-control.

"Emily? Are you okay? I heard you...yelling. And who was driving that car like crazy? It almost hit me", Spencer grinned. Her smile fell once she understood the gravity of the situation. "You know what? Get in."

Emily just stared at her, baffled.

Spencer rolled her eyes, smiling. "In the car, I mean. Be a good girl, now". Her tone was slightly bossy, but serious. She took Emily's hand and ushered her into the passenger seat, closing the door behind her. She got in and started the engine, idling for a little while as her mind worked.

"Was that Arianna?", Spencer ventured, hesitant. Emily looked hurt, confused...sad. Spencer wondered how it would feel to run over the journalist's smug face.

"Yeah." A small sound, a weak acceptance. Spencer found herself frowning, and she reached forward and took Emily's hand.

"It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it."

"She just left. We didn't even have a fight or anything. She just got home from work, packed her bags and left. She left a stupid note. Three sentences. I was in the same house as her, but she didn't say a word to me", Emily explained, her words a little slow, her speech halting. The lines of her face were stretched with dismay. Disappointment. Pain.

"Where did she go? Did she mention that?", Spencer questioned, squeezing Emily's hand to let her know that she was there for her. This girlfriend of hers seemed pretty moronic. Who did something like that? She'd never liked Arianna to begin with.

"No. Just that she'll be gone for a few days. I don't understand, Spence. Everything was going so well...and now I just don't know." A defeated sigh. A dejected countenance.

"Do you want to..you know...just forget about it? Let's go on a drive." Spencer's voice was tinged with hope, and suddenly, her mind reverted back to the dream she had had. (No, please, not that. Not again. Not now!)

Emily smiled at Spencer, some of the sadness in her eyes draining away at the kindness in Spencer's voice. "I..I would love that. Yes, please."

"At your service, ma'am", Spencer faked a British accent and doffed an invisible hat, making the tanned girl burst out into giggles. She'd always thought Spencer Hastings was such an English name, and Spencer somehow managed to get the pronunciation just right. Her subservient expression was hilarious, as it seemed so unnatural on the usually bossy girl.

Spencer stepped on the accelerator, and made a u-turn, driving wherever the road took them. (Toby had been erased from her mind like chalk wiped with a wet cloth from a slate.) She never liked unknown things, always preferred journeys that were planned and had a fixed destination. But with Emily by her side, for the first time Spencer felt like maybe, it was the process of getting there that mattered.

* * *

**A/N:** _So, don't be disappointed. I know it's short, but I left the actual drive for the next chapter. And yes, Arianna's disappearance does have something to do with the new character. I'm wondering whether I should make Arianna a full-fledged character or not. Suggestions? Maybe later. Sorry for neglecting poor Toby! (And keep the reviews coming! xD)_

_LaughLoveLiveXx: To Kill A Mockingbird is one of my favourite books as well. (I wish Atticus was real!) Ari is a character that's basically a bundle of contradictions, and her literary choices say a lot about her as a person. Freud is strange, haha. Glad you liked the dream, I was kind of worried about that. _

_ag: Thanks a lot for the kind comment! x)_

_Cha: I think I'll include Hanna and Aria in future chapters. And more flashbacks are on the way!_

_064548 : Haha, while writing the dream sequence, I was all too conscious of Aria's smexy dreams about Jason, so I tried to make it as different as possible. (Although who wouldn't wanna dream about a shirtless Emily?) I think Spencer's confused about what she wants from Emily, but we know better, right? ;)_

_x-sugarfree-x: Yeah, possessiveness is like a HUGE part of Arianna, which will really cause a lot of problems in the future! Spencer Hastings never settles for second place. xD_

_spinoza-off: Thanks for the lovely response! The dream was basically a glimpse into Spencer's unfulfilled desires. She's obviously someone who loves having hectic schedules, but she also has a side that craves for an easy life. I made Ari a journalist on purpose, to kind of stress how Ari seems to have the life (and love) that Spencer wants. Arianna's background will be delved into, of course, in the next chapter, I suppose. And the mystery surrounding her abrupt departure as well. Most of her personality is because of her past.  
Emily's basically dissatisfied with her life, but unlike Spencer, her unwanted desires aren't that clear to her. She's still struggling with herself as she used to in the past. _

_anon: Thank you! x) _


	7. Playing With Fire

**A/N:**_I hope this isn't too much of an anticlimax. Once again, Arianna features in quite a big chunk of this chapter._

_**Edit: **I changed a bit of Arianna's meeting with Danielle. I have come up with new plot devices, and I really want to implement those changes later on in the story, so, as of now, their past is a bit of a mystery.  
_

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**Chapter 7-Playing With Fire**

"Spence, you're way over the speed limit", Emily Fields casually pointed out to her best friend as they sped long the purple-tinged asphalt as if gliding on thin air. The view was spectacular around them. Emily had never been in this part of the country, she hadn't even known that Holbrook was even connected to roads that seemingly stretched to nowhere through beautifully wooded parts of the state. She was feeling a lot more relaxed right now, and the lazy smile that kept waltzing onto her lips was evidence to that.

Spencer could feel it lighting up the rapidly darkening interior of the car even without even looking.

"Calm down. I know how to get my way out of a speeding ticket", Spencer bragged, throwing a cocky smirk in Emily's direction. Emily just rolled her eyes, wondering how it was that some things never changed. Spencer was still that self-assured girl who excelled at basically everything. Confidence was so attractive. (In a totally platonic way.)

"Oh, and how do you that?", Emily scoffed, a teasing tone underlying the thick disbelief in her voice.

"I just use my feminine wiles", Spencer wiggled her eyebrows, checking that there were no cars in front of her before turning towards Emily again. She arched her eyebrows and pouted her lips. "Aren't I sexy?", she asked in a faux sultry, low voice.

Emily erupted in a bout of giggles, inexplicably amused by Spencer's antics. "What feminine wiles?", she asked, cupping her palms and holding them up near her eyes, mimicking a pair of binoculars. "I don't see any of that...or this sexiness that you speak of."

Spencer's expression became disgruntled and her bottom lip stuck out, and she turned away. "You are a heartbreaker, Emily Fields. Or perhaps you just have really horrid taste." She was thinking about Arianna, of course. Her humorous voice gave her away, and she suddenly grinned at the road as if it had shown up at her door claiming to be the elusive Santa Claus who had given her expensive gifts every Christmas.

"Says you. Would you say you were sexy if you were gay and met yourself? I think not", Emily taunted, watching the play of emotions on Spencer's face. Her features did such curious things, and Emily often felt like memorizing and studying the shifts of the planes and angles with each new sentiment. She was really getting a kick out of annoying Spencer. Oh, what she wouldn't do to see Spencer Hastings flustered and unsure of herself.

"At least I have good taste", Spencer retorted, clearly unwilling to let that thread of conversation go. "I'd totally find you sexy. No wonder all the gay girls at school threw themselves at you", she rambled on, her face imitating the Cheshire cat. When she realized just what she had said, her smile flickered a little, dimming in its brightness. Oh crap. Her subconscious was making her stumble on purpose!

Emily blushed, turning away and pulling her hair over her shoulder to hide her very noticeable reaction. The compliment made her feel giddy, and she didn't really know why. It was just Spencer. She was just being nice.

"You're acting as if I had the whole cheer-leading squad competing to get into my pants. It was only two girls. And besides, I think Aria would be more to your taste", Emily replied, mentally wincing when she thought of Maya. But she was too caught up in this war of tongues (no, not like that) with Spencer. And she was enjoying it far too much. Two could play this game.

"Aria?", Spencer was surprised at her insinuation. "What-what, why?", she frowned at Emily, forgetting the steps to the little dance they were doing.

"Oh, please. She was always your favourite." Was it Spencer's imagination, or was there a trace of bitterness in Emily's voice? No, of course not. Why would Emily be jealous? No reason at all.

Spencer turned towards the road, thrown off by the sudden change of track. She waited for Emily to continue. Which she did.

"I mean, Spence..she was always the one you called whenever you got a new..clue. And you took her with you always to hunt for evidence. And stuff." Emily didn't even know if she was being serious or not. She was staring at Spencer, gauging her reaction.

Spencer slowed down the car, taking her eyes off the road again so that she could meet Emily's questioning gaze. And then she smiled. "That's because I couldn't have taken Hanna. Really, she always insisted on wearing these absurd heels." When she noticed that Emily wasn't smiling back, she moved a hand from the steering wheel and placed it on top of Emily's. (Dangerous driving was really the last of her priorities now. Besides, she was Spencer Hastings. She could drive impeccably whilst blindfolded.)

"It's not like you didn't get a chance to be the Watson to my Sherlock sometimes", Spencer tried, coaxing a smile out of the raven-haired girl. "But, I always thought twice before taking you." A shrug punctuated this statement. "I wanted you...safe. Far away from A."

Oh. So that was how it was. Emily felt something inside her melting at the look in Spencer's eyes. It felt like a gear was falling into place. She knew that the girl in front of her had always been the protective one. Always the one looking out for the three of them, always taking all the responsibilities onto herself.

"You're the best." Three words that suddenly felt more important (and way better) to Spencer than being valedictorian or getting accepted to Yale, or even the Nobel Prize she often won in her fantasies. It meant that everything was finally alright between them. She felt the sudden urge to leap from her seat and kiss Emily. On her cheek. After taking off her seat-belt which would probably hinder her. After stopping the car. After she had driven carefully to the side of her head. Ugh, reality.

"You're doing that thing again, Spence", Emily laughed, noticing the awe-struck look on her best friend's face. "Stop, you're making me feel all self-conscious."

Spencer complied silently, turning to drive carefully like the good, proper person that she was. She couldn't (and wouldn't) erase the smile that was currently splitting her face into two, or stop the irregular thrum of her heartbeat. "I'm sorry my face is so sexy that you can't bear prolonged exposure to it", she dead-panned, eliciting another adorable giggle from the girl beside her.

"Oh yes, keep thinking that, Ms. Hastings."

The sky was turning into a dark purple, the moon had already come out donning white robes and her Blackberry kept buzzing but that same Ms. Hastings didn't have a care in the world.

* * *

At that moment, a certain brunette unlocked the door to her apartment and walked in, looking tired. Before she could throw her handbag at the same spot on the couch where she threw it every day, she woke up from her trance with a start. Something was out of place.

A familiar figure was lounging in the armchair by the window as if it belonged there.

"Hello, Danielle", a gravelly but unmistakably feminine voice drawled slowly, and Arianna Ashdown Capello rose from her seat, looking unruffled, as if she got caught breaking into stranger's houses every day. And didn't give a damn about it.

"A..? Wh-what?" Surprise coated thick on the girl's voice, obscuring the small flicker of...was it pleasure? Or disappointment? Arianna couldn't tell. She remained silent, walking to the window and watching the the lights of New York cars glinting on the road.

"How did you find my address?', Danielle demanded, pushing a wavy lock of hair behind her ear absently. She shifted with the strap of her purse, then set it down on a nearby table, softly.

"I have my ways." A cryptic reply, giving nothing away.

"And how did you get in?", Danielle continued, taking a seat on the black leather couch. There was an undertone of fear to her voice, and her eyes shifted uneasily, not landing on anything in particular, afraid to look at the dark figure in front of her.

"Like I said, I have my ways. But before I got here, I had to be sure it was..you." A sigh acted as a full stop her sentence, as Arianna turned around, her dark eyes flashing. Everything seemed to slow down as two pairs of dark eyes met, and drowned in each other. Time itself was suspended as strange emotions flooded the two figures that were frozen in silent contemplation of each other.

A blink. That was all it took to break the spell, and Arianna felt guilt rising up in her for revisiting old feelings. Emotions that had been kept under lock and key in the dusty corners of her mind (a well frequented spot, a secret indulgence). She felt like she was drowning, battling against a strong current that threatened to wipe away her placid existence.

"What do you want, A?", Danielle asked, using her initial to address the taller girl.

"You left, Dani. You didn't even say goodbye." Ari swallowed a sudden lump that had formed in her throat, a painful reminder of how much reliving the past hurt.

Dani winced, biting her lip automatically. The tragic look on her face made Ari's chest hurt, as if someone had planted hooks in her heart and was now playing tug of war with her rib-cage. "You asked me to, remember?", Danielle sighed, looking away, suddenly all emotions erased from her face.

"I didn't mean to blame you."

"Yes, yes you did. You hated me."

"I..forgave you a long time ago, Danielle", Arianna whispered, a sudden tenderness softening the lines around her mouth, dampening the fire in her eyes. "I just wanted you to know that." She also wanted to say something else, but the words got stuck in her throat, burning her from inside.

Dani looked at her, her lips slightly parted, her eyes burning with an undecipherable emotion. "I love the way you say my name." She ducked her head, looking bashful, as if she had no idea what was coming out of her mouth.

Suddenly, Ari was reminded of Emily. Her Emily. The Emily she'd left without a second thought, without an explanation. Guilt twisted her gut, and she started towards the door. She had to leave. Before she did something stupid. Before Danielle's terrible beauty bewitched her. Before those old feelings took her captive again. Before that dying, sputtering flame of first love could be rekindled.

But it was too late.

No, no. She couldn't. She had to go. Danielle had haunted her for long enough. She couldn't just waltz back into her life like that. She wouldn't let her. Not even if she was looking at her with those gorgeous brown eyes, with her wavy hair framing her heart shaped face. Not even if those lips were curved in that mischievous smile that she knew well from her dreams (and daydreams and nightmares where things always, always ended badly). She had to leave. She had to reach the door, get to the other side, and stay there. Barriers. They needed barriers. Thousands of miles. Thousands of light years.

They both moved at the same time, Danielle misinterpreting her actions (Arianna had meant to leave, but her feet pointed the wrong way). They collided clumsily, elbows knocking, wrists bending uncomfortably. It was supposed to be a hug, but somehow they ended up kissing. Their first kiss. The kiss that they'd both yearned for, the one they'd both wished for, the one they should have had eight years ago. Lips scorched each other, tongues fought the battle that had been brewing for years, and hands fumbled, touched and touched and touched.

Everything felt a thousand times better than Arianna had ever imagined.

* * *

Two skies provided the backdrop to another late-night rendezvous between two friends. The unbroken surface of a large lake provided the false ceiling, mirroring the bejeweled sky in all its glory. If one looked close enough, one could make out two heads bent together, two silhouettes sharply outlined by the moonlight, sitting atop a large rock which looked like it was about to dive head-first into the pool. (Although rocks didn't have heads and Spencer knew that this one wasn't going anywhere; she had ordered Emily to push it before climbing on top of it.)

"Spencer?", Emily Fields murmured, sounding a little sleepy and a little bit too wide awake. (What a delightful oxymoron, she was.) She fiddled with the tips of her friend's slender fingers, measuring them up against each other, then sliding her own fingers in between the gaps.

"Mhm?"

"Did you call Toby?" There was that caution again, that feeling of walking on a thin line. Emily didn't know why Spencer was keeping their friendship a secret from her fiancé. Did that mean Toby was still holding a grudge against her? That seemed highly unlikely. He just wasn't the type. Maybe it meant that Spencer was too embarrassed to acknowledge their friendship. Emily really hoped that wasn't the case. She'd truly thought that they were okay again. Better than okay. Perfect.

"Uhuh. I told him I have work so I'm sleeping over at the office", Spencer replied, sounding bored. She didn't want to talk about Toby. She didn't know why. She loved him so much (really?), she loved talking about him, she loved thinking about him. But somehow, when she was with Emily, she'd rather talk about anything else. She really didn't know why she was making such a big deal about forgiving Emily. She could just tell Toby. It's not like he would mind. In fact, he'd so much as hinted at it. But that would mean meeting Emily at her home. With Toby around. That would mean sharing her. And she kinda didn't want to do that right now. She liked meeting like this, sneaking away without telling anyone. Going places where it was just the two of them. She didn't know why, but it felt like she was discovering something new but revisiting something old at the same time.

Emily's voice broke into her excessively analytic thoughts. "He believes you? Wow. Ari would grill me for ages before she'd take any excuse I threw at her." Ugh, Arianna again. Emily needed to stop thinking about her. She needed to escape.

"Toby lets me be. He gives me my space, he practically treats me like a queen." Spencer leaned back, resting her head on the hard surface of the boulder. "He's absolutely perfect." She said it like a mantra, without any sentiment colouring her words or adding a zing to her syllables. She said it like she used to mutter those algebraic formulas under her breath, a sure key to success.

Emily sat still, watching Spencer's face, her glazed over eyes. She could tell that the pale girl was in deep contemplation, and something in her demeanour was more serious than usual. She curled up next to the shorter girl, wondering how many more surfaces her body would be introduced to via her meetings with Spencer. The covertness of their conversations was almost funny. Almost.

"Can I ask you something?", Emily hesitantly ventured, looking up at Spencer's strong jawline framed by moonlight, and the stars reflected in her eyes. She watched as the girl nodded, and then turned towards her, that familiar curiosity peeking through layers of burnt sienna. "Have you ever been attracted to anyone else? Found your mind...straying? I mean...you and Toby have been together since high school. Has there really been no one else?" Emily hoped it didn't sound like she was questioning Spencer's perfect relationship with Toby. In fact, she envied it. It was surely better than the dysfunctional one she had with Arianna. (She had to stop thinking about her. Right. Now.) "I don't mean anything by it. Just that, how does one know if it's mere attraction or something else? When you're in love with someone, yet you find yourself...", she trailed off, her thoughts ensnaring her in a labyrinth.

Spencer shifted, suddenly finding the illumination of the stars too bright, the air too thick. The questions had hit home. (But no, she shouldn't be thinking that.) She'd found these same questions laying traps for her in her own mind. They caught her unawares when she tried not to fidget uncomfortably in Toby's arms at night. They lulled her into confusing dreams and set her off on winding daydreams that often ended up at strange destinations. (But not destinations that she didn't like. Just ones she liked a little too much.) Emily's curious eyes were burning holes into her determination (her self-denial, self-control, self-induced ignorance).

"Hm. There was this one time..." Spencer recounted, smiling to herself at the memory. "Toby and I had a fight. It was just because I made a harmless remark about how he should start his own business instead of working for others." She paused, recalling how angry Toby had been. He let her boss him around on everything except his career. It was a line that she could never cross. "Well, I had a roommate, and it was during college. Her name was Chloe, and she was kind of as big as a nerd as I was. That night, she convinced me to let loose and forget about him. So we ended up finishing two bottles of Jack although we'd started off with chardonnay. And then we kind of...kissed." The last part came out in a half-whispered jumble of words that was a little difficult for the darker girl to understand.

Emily let out a strangled noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a full-fledged gasp. "You did _what_?", she laughed, surprise written all over her face. She really couldn't imagine Spencer Hastings getting drunk enough to make out with a girl. Must've been some girl. She found herself wondering what she might have looked like. If she was really pretty or not. If she made Spencer laugh. If they'd been closer than Emily and Spencer were.

"It's not my fault! She was wearing very little and I was very drunk", Spencer said defensively, grinning. "Besides, she quoted Shakespeare!" As if that explained and excused everything. Emily giggled again. Oh, yes. That sounded exactly like her friend.

"At least now I know that the road to your pants is classic literature. Not that it wasn't hard to guess before", Emily joked, smirking at the thinner girl. She realized the insinuation in her words a beat too late, and looked up at the moon to avoid Spencer's eyes. (But she could still feel the side of her face warming up because of Spencer's heated gaze.)

Spencer was suddenly hyper aware of their proximity on that cold slab of rock, of the goosebumps on Emily's arms, the tickle of her midnight-black hair against Spencer's collarbone. She could probably count and list (alphabetically, of course) all of the body parts that were currently touching Emily. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't give a name to the strange symptoms that these careless brushes caused. She took the opportunity to silently watch the impassive face of the girl lying beside her. It was a familiar face, but she felt like she was an explorer, and she'd stumbled across something she had never seen before. It filled her with...this feeling. She hated not being able to define it.

"Are you saying that I'm easy?", Spencer asked, teeth sinking into lower lip, her tone playful.

"Hmm...", Emily pretended to ponder over the question, her brow furrowed as if she was making really complicated calculations. "That depends", she concluded with a sly smile.

"On what?", the brunette asked, the smile refusing to leave her lips now. Her heart raced like she had just finished playing a hockey match.

"Depends on who's seducing you, I suppose", the tanned girl replied cryptically, finally turning her head to face her friend. Their noses almost touched, and their eyes got tangled in an unblinking stare.

"And since when are you the expert on the art of seduction? Aren't you supposed to be the shy one?", Spencer teased, playing with the hem of Emily's top absently. Twisting, pulling, tugging. Running her fingertips along the seams. Hating the fabric barrier. (Wait, what?)

"There's a lot about me that you don't know, Spence", Emily whispered, her gaze canvassing Spencer's face, while her hands mapped out the lines of the brunette's arm.

"Oh, really? You know there's nothing I love more than a challenge", Spencer shot back, her eyebrows arching, her mouth twisting in a fiendish smirk. Were they flirting? Sometimes she did it without even realizing she was doing it. Like that time with Wren. Or more accurately, like those times with Wren. (And countless other men whose names she couldn't even remember.) But this was Emily. So what was she doing flirting with her best friend? (And why did it feel so...special?)

"So are you trying to say your new subject's going to be yours truly?", the taller girl asked, shifting a little, making new spots on Spencer's body bloom with a scorching heat. "I don't think I'll be able to stand so much attention."

"Now I know you're lying." Spencer grinned, walking her fingers along Emily's waist absently, studying her friend's face. "You're just dying for attention. I know it."

"Hmm...and how have you arrived at this conclusion, Hastings?", the other girl inquired, the corners of her lips lifting up of their own accord.

Spencer inched her face closer, a dangerous move. The moon was making her mental. A _lunatic_. She almost laughed at her thoughts, but stopped herself just in time. "I'm a quick learner, Fields", was her short reply, the intentional gaps between her words filled with concealed messages.

Emily stopped breathing, tensing for a fleeting second (a second that stretched too long, a move that was all too clear for Spencer), then relaxed, taking a deep breath to clear her clouded mind. She tried an airy voice, hoping that the slight tremor of her words would go unnoticed (but Spencer noticed everything, and the spotlight was on Emily), "I guess we'll have to see."

* * *

**A/N:**_Ugh, so. I was facing writer's block. (Which I face 90% of the time because I'm a wannabe-writer.) And that should excuse the writing. Apologies for the delay. Updates will be less frequent from now on because school's unfortunately starting._

_LaughLoveLiveXx:__Aw, Dill. And Scout! ;D Emily and Arianna really do have their issues, and most of it is because Arianna isn't a very trusting person because of her past and all. Obviously, it's Spemily all the way!  
I feel like Spencer's really the dependable one, and that's why her arrival is really not so surprising. She's always there for her friend(s), as always. xD_

_anon: Thank you so much! I hope it stays that way._

_Cha:__Ooh-ooh. There's more there than I can reveal, but let me tell you that what went on with Hanna and Aria is quite surprising too.  
That idea of Caleb is quite interesting, actually. Maybe I'll use it in future chapters. CEO Caleb! Sounds purrfect. xD (And I would kill for Spencer's car. Really.)_

_spinoza-off:__Okay. Your review! I can't even, with the Christie comparison. To me, Christie's like the goddess of thrillers. No one does mystery better than her (although Arthur Conan Doyle and Dan Brown are very very good too). Obviously the murders will feature in a later part of the story. I just wanted to give Arianna's weird personality an explanation._

_x-sugarfree-x :__Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned! ;D Emily's not a pushover anymore. More Spemily moments to come. :)_

_Leah: Thank you very much. x) Hope you continue to enjoy the story._


	8. Life Imitates Art I

_You'll have to blame Shay Mitchell's gorgeousness for the late update. I've been too busy making edits of her for my blog. xD_

_Anyways, here you go! _

* * *

**Chapter 8 - Life Imitates Art (I)**

A week later, Spencer found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom, surveying the silver Dior sheath that adorned her slender body. She turned around, wanting to examine her appearance from every angle possible. She sighed, looking up at the ornate leaf-shaped wall clock that hung beside the closet door. It was five pm already and the party started at eight. She didn't really know why she was making such a big fuss about her clothes. She did always like to dress properly, she loved exuding charm and sophistication. But she'd rejected about a hundred dresses already, finding minute flaws about each and every designer piece that she owned. For some reason, she felt like she had to look perfect today. Absolutely perfect.

A knock sounded on the door, and a second later, Toby waltzed into the room, already dressed in a gorgeous Armani tuxedo. His hair was styled with that Kiehl's Styling Gel that she had bought for him (a million years ago, back when she actually cared about his appearance), the slicked back look making his prominent cheekbones stand out. Spencer smiled at him, wishing that her heart would drop at the sight of him. He looked so gorgeous. But she didn't feel that familiar burn inside her stomach, and her arms weren't lifting up automatically to envelop him in a hug. She'd always found him so irresistible. There was certainly something very wrong with her. And for the first time in her life, she didn't want to investigate the cause.

"Babe, have you finally decided on something to wear?", Toby asked sweetly, his unnaturally full lips curving into a smile. (A smile that used to make her heart do cartwheels, like some circus acrobat.)

"Yeah. I guess I'll wear this", Spencer huffed, settling on this dress because she didn't want her sudden preoccupation with her appearance to show.

"You look handsome", she smiled over her shoulder, watching the delighted expression that flashed across her fiancé's face. He mumbled his thanks bashfully, his shyness overtaking him despite their years of familiarity.

"And you look beautiful. As always". He ran his eyes appreciatively over Spencer's reflection in the mirror, his cerulean eyes turning indigo with unconcealed longing.

The not-so-subtle change of emotions twisted Spencer's gut, making her want to heave. She was beginning to feel uncomfortable in her own skin. Here he was, cutely complimenting her, and her reactions were making her want to bolt from the room. Spencer's phone started to ring, providing a much needed reprieve from Toby's admiring gaze. She glanced at the caller id, then scooped up her phone, sauntering over to the walk-in closet as if looking for a pair of shoes. Once she was inside the changing area, she shut the door behind her. She took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Hello, Spencer Hastings speaking." Her voice was a little breathless, as if she'd climbed up a flight of stairs really fast. She knew who was calling, she knew there was no need to be formal, but she couldn't break her habit.

"You've got to stop answering the phone like that, Spence. I feel like I'm talking to a receptionist", Emily's slightly scratchy and highly feminine voice trickled into her ears, making a slight, almost unnoticeable shiver tingle down her spine.

"There's nothing wrong with receptionists", Spencer retorted, a smile sliding onto her lips like it belonged there. (Like it belonged to the whispered voice that was seeping into her entire being, shaking her up.)

"I always knew this lawyer thing was a backup plan", Emily joked, giggling at the other end.

Spencer tried to picture her. Was she getting dressed like she was? Was she in the process of getting dressed? What was she wearing? (Was she wearing anything at all? No, Spencer. _Stop._) She could imagine her toying with the ends of her hair, and she could almost conjure up Emily's trademark coy smile in front of her.  
Spencer had gotten an invite from one of her clients for some art exhibition in Philly, and she'd agreed. She was almost sure she'd bump into her parents there, and she'd gone a while without getting in touch with either of them. Especially after they had separated. Perhaps Melissa would be there, if her parents weren't. But more importantly, Spencer had agreed to drive for two hours to go to a party celebrating an artist whose name she hadn't even bothered to learn only because Emily had let it slip that Arianna had scored invites too, and was going to be covering the event. Spencer had been surprised that they were even going to a party together. After everything that had happened. But it wasn't her place to judge. Or feel protective. Or feel like knocking Arianna over with a car for abandoning her best friend so callously.

"You're still coming tonight, right?", Spencer asked, lowering her voice so that Toby wouldn't accidentally overhear her. She moved deeper into her closet, distractedly picking up pairs of heels and then discarding them with a sigh. She could bet that Emily didn't need so much time to get ready. She made looking gorgeous look effortless.

"Yes, of course. What's irritating you this time?", Emily inquired, her voice tinged with concern.

Spencer could feel her smile melting into a grin. She was becoming more of an open book to Emily with every passing day (or more accurately, night). It still flattered her that Emily could tell that she was annoyed just by her tone. It proved she was paying attention. (And that made her heart do that funny thing that it did only when she was around Emily. That totally platonic thing.)

"I can't find a pair of shoes to go with my dress", the brunette whined, sitting down on a low seat next to the shelves lined with every kind of designer shoe imaginable. She was filled with this inexplicable urge to have Emily next to her, right now. Not her voice, not her words that slipped between her ribs and settled in her chest. But the tangibility of her fingers, her arms, her warm, breathing form right in front of her. That'd be nice. _I really want you here, _she wanted to say.

"You what?", Emily chuckled, her laughter tickling Spencer's ears, making a small smile bloom on her own lips. "You own something that resembles a shoe boutique. I'm sure there's more than five shoes that would go perfectly with whatever you're wearing."

Spencer choked back a laugh when she recalled the first time Emily had been introduced to her closet. Not in a guided-tour kind of way. More in a 'thrust-into-the-only-available-space' because Toby had unexpectedly come back during one of the afternoons that Spencer had taken off which had coincidentally matched with the time Emily was off swim practice. (That's right, coincidences do happen.) He'd come back to get some drawings, instead he found his favourite workaholic enjoying free time. (What heresy.) Which was why he didn't return to his patio or shed or whatever-piece-of-furniture he was working on, and insisted on cooking a meal and spending 'quality time' with Spencer. Emily had sneaked away when they were in the kitchen, but she kept complaining about how she had nearly asphyxiated because of lack of oxygen. As if. Spencer knew that judging by the volume of her closet, there was enough air in there to sustain two people for a couple of days. Not if they made out or something. Not that she was thinking those thoughts.

"No, no! Nothing in my outfit is going right. Ugh, I think I look like a sparkly disco ball", Spencer complained, suddenly not wanting to go to the party at all. She'd rather walk across the street, knock on Emily's door, and kidnap her for another long drive. (It had become their escape from life. It had become a bad habit. An addiction.)

"I'm sure you make a very cute disco ball", Emily tried to soothe her frayed her nerves. "You look good no matter what you wear, Spence. So stop stressing over it and meet me there as soon as you can."

Spencer smiled, the tension coiled inside her dissolving easily. Just like that. Somehow, Emily seemed to hold the key to her sanity these days. But the more she clung on to her, the more she found herself edging towards what felt like irresistible insanity. She wanted to point out to Emily that she was wrong. That it wasn't Spencer who was good at this beautiful-without-trying thing. That Emily could look gorgeous in a plastic bag. (A look that would be very, very hot.) No, thoughts. _Thoughts._ She had to stop her mind from veering in dangerous directions. She _had _to.

"Spencer?" Emily's voice shook her out of her rambling thoughts, the fog in her mind clearing momentarily. Jeez. If a telephone conversation could end up making her feel so twisted and messed up, what would meeting her do to her? She shuddered to think.

"I'm here. I should go. Toby lets me get away with a lot, but I think he will have to question my sudden urge to engage in long conversations with my Louboutins. See you later, gorgeous", Spencer signed off, ending the call. She was just in time, because that's when she heard a soft, tentative knock on the closet door.

"Spencer? Have you fallen asleep in there? I knew there was a reason I didn't want our closet to be the size of a bedroom." Toby's voice was muffled and sounded as if it was coming from miles away, through a long tunnel of broken communication. It was funny, really, how Emily's voice on the phone had sounded much closer. Much more real. Much more like what Spencer needed to hear.

* * *

Three houses down, across the street, Emily Fields was smiling to herself as she set the phone down on her bedside table. Spencer's words lingered in her ear, like the fuzzy memory of a dream (or a dream-like memory). _See you later, gorgeous. _Did friends normally finish calls like that? She didn't know. They'd been addressing each other using these terms of endearment lately. She didn't know what it meant, except that it made her feel all happy inside. Like swimming used to make her feel. And besides, if it felt right, it had to be right. Right?

"Who were you talking to?", came a muffled voice from inside Emily's closet (which looked like a mall's changing room compared to Spencer's boutique).

Emily rolled her eyes. Ever since her girlfriend had come back from her four-day disappearance (without any explanations), she'd been acting edgy and strange. Like she was waiting for a time bomb to explode.

"Do you really think _you_ should be asking _me _questions?", Emily fired back, a trace of resentment creeping into her voice. She'd tried to be the supportive girlfriend, she really had. But Arianna had given her nothing but flimsy excuses, citing 'family emergencies' as the cause for her hasty departure. She didn't buy it, but she didn't press her either. Arianna had grown even more irritable, and Emily felt like she was walking on eggshells near her. Sure, her girlfriend knew how to be sweet to her when the situation demanded it (she had practically begged Emily to go to the exhibition tonight) but sometimes, when she thought Emily wasn't looking, she had a strange, stormy look in her eyes that scared Emily. A lot.

"Sorry. Won't ask you anything ever again", Ari mumbled as she walked out wearing a dress shirt, a brown jacket and a disgruntled expression. Her eyes were flashing with anger again, and Emily could see the tension making her movements stiff.

"Stop being like that." Emily made a conscious effort to soften her tone. Whatever Arianna was dealing with, it was obviously straining her. She had to learn to be a better girlfriend. (She felt guilty enough already, although she didn't really know why. Arianna should be the guilty one, not her!)

"Mhm. I'm gonna go get the car out. Meet me downstairs."

Emily sighed, and put her head between her hands, counting slowly to ten. Then to fifteen. Finally, somewhere between sixty five and seventy, she felt her usual calm self. Well, almost.

It was going to be a long night.

Only the thought of seeing Spencer made the whole ordeal seem bearable.

Spencer. Spencer was going to be there. Her heart lifted at that thought, and the frustration congesting her chest seemed to ease away. Spencer would make her feel okay again. She'd been doing that a lot for the past week. They could slip away outside during the exhibition and talk. Thinking about it made her thrum with excitement. When she heard the car's engine start, she got up from the bed, smoothing her dress down, a smile tucked away at the corner of her lips.

What had she been thinking of before Spencer wiped away everything from her mind? Oh, yeah.

It was going to be a _great_ night.

* * *

"You're driving too slow. We're going to be late!"

"No, babe. We're halfway there, and we've got loads of time left." Toby turned to his fiancée with a reassuring smile.

The said fiancée wasn't even looking at him. Instead, she was leaning her head against the car window, watching cars zoom by. Toby's smile flickered on his lips, before it faded away entirely.

He turned to the stereo of the car, fiddling with the knobs to distract him from something that had been becoming glaringly obvious over the past few days. The song _Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want _by _The Smiths _came on. It was his favourite. Not that anyone cared.

"Can you turn that down a little? I think I'm getting a headache." Spencer's breath created a humid patch on the window, making the lights outside look like watery candles.

Toby complied, lowering the volume until the song was nothing but a muted muzak to their lackadaisical drive, the sounds of the cars outside almost drowning the lyrics out. It was almost like they were driving to a funeral.

"We could've stayed in. I suggested that, remember?" Toby felt like he had to keep reminding Spencer of things. She never seemed to notice anything anymore. At first, he'd chalked it up to work stress. But she'd been taking time off from work (something that she _never _did) and Toby kept running out of excuses.

The subdued yet soothing vocals of Morrissey filled the dismally silent car. In other circumstances, Toby would've tunelessly hummed along with the lyrics, but that was far from what he felt like doing right now.

_See, the life I've had,  
__Can make a good man bad.  
__So for once in my life,  
__Let me get what I want.  
Lord knows, it would be the first time._

Could he blame Spencer's idiosyncratic behaviour on Emily? Surely her distracted state had something to do with meeting her former best friend at that ill-fated lunch. Ever since the swimmer-turned-coach had moved in across the street, Spencer had been acting erratically. Toby wished that the girls would patch up again. It'd been too long since he'd seen Spencer with some real friends. Not just clients or other lawyers. People that she actually cared about. And he cared about Emily, despite everything that happened. He remembered how he'd always had a soft spot for her, out of all the girls in Rosewood. Even before he knew her. That was before he met Spencer, of course. But even afterwards, Emily had remained a special friend. Someone who understood him like no one else did. They did have a lot in common, besides their taste in music.

But Spencer had made it clear that it was out of question. Sometimes, she was so stubborn. Always so convinced that what she was doing was right. He loved and sometimes, hated that part about her. (Of course, he'd never tell her that.)

Toby glanced over at Spencer again, really quickly. He didn't want to make her feel like she was being watched. (She hated that. She always got really self-conscious.) She had stopped resting her head on the window, but her body was still angled away from Toby. Her eyes were closed, and an almost imperceptible crease had formed between her eyebrows. She looked...so different.

The song petered out. _Broken _by _Secondhand Serenade _came on, the sound of guitar swelling within the car, as Toby looked away, his lips pressed together in a thin line. No matter what she was going through, he would make sure to be there for her. That's what he did best.

_We can stand across from each other.  
__Together we'll wonder,  
If we will last these days.  
__If I asked you to stay would you tell me that you would be mine?  
Or think that we are broken?_

* * *

Emily was standing in deep contemplation of an art piece that hung in front of her. To her untrained eye, it looked like a pair of slugs had left a brilliant blue trail behind them on an ocean of churning crimson. It really didn't make sense at all. The piece was titled "The Deep Blue In-Between" which also didn't really provide much of a clue as to what it was all about. She really wasn't an art person. She wondered why she had even agreed to come. Oh, right. Spencer.

"That blue paint looks like it got lost and wandered into that painting", came a raspy voice from behind her, making Emily almost jump.

Emily didn't believe in superstitions (well, she'd outgrown them) but it certainly seemed funny how the person in her thoughts had materialized out of nowhere behind her. Spencer stood behind her, wearing her trademark smirk and a gorgeous dress that flaunted her subtle curves.

"I thought I'd get a much more educated response from you", Emily grinned in greeting, stepping closer to her friend. "In fact, I was hoping you'd provide me with a detailed artistic analysis of it. Or is Spencer Hastings off her game tonight?"

Spencer's eyes glinted with amusement, and she ducked her head before admitting, "I'm not really into art. Well, at least not this." She waved her hands about, gesturing at the cryptic melange of acrylic in front of them. "I'm more into Baroque. I even get Impressionism, but this is just...well." She paused, shaking her head, unable to stop smiling.

"I wish I knew what you meant by the words you just said, but remind me to quiz you later? I'm kind of starving." Emily started walking away, looking for the waiter that had been walking around with a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

"I don't think they have food here, Em."

Emily spotted the waiter, crowed in by a lot of elegantly dressed people. It seemed like everyone was just as hungry as she was. He was carrying a tray filled with delicious-looking canapés. Looking at it made Emily's hunger sharpen.

She was about to walk straight to him before she felt Spencer's hand on her elbow, tugging her back.

"You do know he's an exhibit, right?", Spencer smirked near her ear, her hand sliding up Emily's arm, and stopping to rest on her shoulder.

Emily's breath caught in her throat, before she reminded herself how to respire properly. _Inhale. Exhale._ _Repeat until satisfied with living._ She almost forgot to be embarrassed for a moment, before realization made her turn crimson. Oh, thank heavens for tanned skin. She felt incredibly stupid, but she wasn't going to give Spencer the satisfaction of making her blush and get flustered, like she usually did.

"What are you doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be mingling with your clients? Creating a big impression?", Emily changed the topic hastily, pushing a lock of hair out of her eyes as she turned away from the strange art piece posing as a waiter.

"Maybe I've shifted my priorities", Spencer drawled, her lips still curled up with amusement at the earlier incident.

"Oh wow. What next? Are you going to start shunning the beloved company of your dictionaries?", Emily teased, wanting to wipe that smug expression off the brunette's face. (Although she wore it _so well.)_

Spencer's eyebrows arched, rising dangerously high, but the mischief didn't fade from her eyes. "You're beginning to sound like me, Em. Be careful. Next, you'll start sleeping with encyclopedias", she deadpanned, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"You still do that?", Emily played along, unable to keep a smile off her lips. She'd never enjoyed waging word wars. (Her tongue always got twisted and she always had a classic case of _l'esprit de l'escalier._) But this was becoming a serious addiction.

(The near-disaster that had ushered them on this path was forgotten, they were too involved in this new game.)

"It sure beats sleeping with an Ariel plushie", Spencer countered, grinning. (She totally had won that verbal fencing match, right? It's not like she really slept with encyclopedias. Toby took up too much space.)

Eloquent gazes provided an articulate pause, a slow thawing of tension.

Teeth sank into quivering lips as eyes locked, gears shifted, invisible threads tangled and tugged them closer. (_Unbearably close_.)

"I stopped sleeping with that after our sixth grade sleepover. I can't believe you even remember that", Emily mumbled, looking away. The cord between them snapped and the universe seemed to tilt back to a place where everything was normal again. "Where's Toby, by the way?"

Spencer blinked, trying to recover. Toby. Oh, Toby. Where was he? For a split second, she almost didn't remember. "Oh, ehm. He saw this wooden installation that's apparently very artistic and he was quizzing one of the artists about that...I just left him there." She shrugged, coming off as completely uninterested.

Emily resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "You can't treat him like a puppy. You should go look for him. And...eh, I don't want Arianna to find us together. She's suspicious enough, without reason."

Spencer quirked a brow, her lips pressing into a thin line. "You're acting like we're having an illicit affair. We're just talking, there's nothing wrong with that." She looked around, noting that Arianna was deep in conversation with a woman who looked somewhat familiar. "Besides, she should stop being such a hypocrite."

Yes, of course there was nothing wrong with that. Then why did they sneak around at night? Why did they find each other in hidden corners to indulge in a few (precious) seconds of conversations? Why did they never acknowledge each other's presence, even at the grocery store? (Some questions are better left unanswered.)

Emily felt her heart flutter in her chest at the insinuation in Spencer's words. (How absurd, to think that they would ever be involved. How absolutely mental.) "Don't...don't say that about her."

"Maybe I should go over there and talk to her. And perhaps tackle her to the ground and punch her in the face", Spencer muttered in a single breath, her words tripping on each other. She added a smile to show that she was joking. (Well, partly.)

"You're such an aggressive cavewoman", Emily grinned, wanting to shift the focus elsewhere. (She'd been thinking enough about her girlfriend's flaws already.)

"I'm a what? Excuse me, but did you just compare me to a Neanderthal?", Spencer asked indignantly, her mouth dramatically shaped into a 'O'.

"It's quite possible that I did."

"Well. I have only one thing to say to that." Spencer's hazel eyes were twinkling (or perhaps it was just the image of the lights above them), and she sidled closer to Emily. "Call me Mr. Flintstone, I can make your bed rock." Her smirk turned suggestive before they both burst out laughing, attracting the attention of the somber looking man who was perusing a distorted painting beside them.

(They both ignored the fact that in another world, their silly banter would be termed serious flirting. No, that thought didn't even cross their minds. Absolutely not.)

"I cannot believe you just quoted that song. I simply can't. What would Mozart say?" Emily mock gasped, nudging her friend in the ribs. She had certainly not pegged her friend as a person who enjoyed popular music. At all. She was more of the classical music type. Definitely.

(But their suppositions and assumptions and presumptions were crumbling away. They were rediscovering, rebuilding their images of each other.)

"Nah, we're in an open relationship. He doesn't mind." Spencer's hand idly moved to Emily's wrist, mimicking the move she'd made when they'd met for the first time after all those years. "Rap is my guilty pleasure. I listen to it when I need to blow off steam. Don't judge me."

"I just find it hard to comprehend that Spencer Hastings listens to songs that have mindless lyrics. Like, 'the square root of sixty-nine is eight something'. How do lyrics like that get famous?" Emily was still smiling and shaking her head, incredulity lining her features. She couldn't believe this new revelation at all.

"It's like poetry. Some of it is witty", Spencer defended herself. "And hello, the square root of sixty-nine is _ate _something. It's a play on words", she explained, her eyes flashing with amusement at the change in Emily's expression.

The double entendre of the line dawned on Emily and she found herself blushing again (for the millionth time). "Oh." She bit her lip and turned away, watching the crowd around Arianna dwindle. She suddenly felt very, very self-conscious. (And that wasn't even the dominating sensation that clouded her mind.)

"I should go", she said abruptly, turning to Spencer with veiled eyes. "Ari will be looking for me. And you should go too. I bet Toby's done talking with the artist..." she trailed off, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Don't forget to call me later", she added, lowering her gaze, and then looking up again.

"Do I ever?", Spencer smiled, a crestfallen expression flitting across her features for a mere second. She watched Emily walk away slowly, watched her peck Arianna's lips. She watched the slow territorial curl of her arm around Emily's waist. (Life was a horror film.) She knew that Emily was right. She couldn't just bring Toby along with her and then abandon him. (She shouldn't be thinking about how she'd rather stay here and chat with Emily than go anywhere else.) She silently berated herself for being the worst fiancee alive and dove into the thinning crowd, looking for her 'beloved'.

* * *

**A/N:** _I'm going to split the night into two parts because I don't want to make the chapters too dull and long. The next part might be up by the weekend (if everything goes right!) _

**Shay Sinclaire:** _Thank you so much! I do try to make it relatable. _

**064548: **_As you can see, they weren't. Spencer flirts half the time without realizing she's doing it. And Arianna's possessive streak is surely heightened near Spencer. _

**Waves of Rage: **_It'll become not so innocent soon! ;)_

**x-sugarfree-x: **_Poor Em. She really does have horrid luck when it comes to love, doesn't she? Spencer already wants to destroy her (without even knowing the truth!) I'll try, but then you'll have to deal with shitty chapters. :P_

**spinoza-off: **_Haha, yes. They love Flirtville. Emily's kinda unsure, whereas Spencer's always sure of what she wants (except that this time she doesn't really want to want it.) I suck with mystery though, so thanks for the comment. I've always wanted to write a thriller, but I gave up the idea and started this fanfic instead. _

_Haha, there's more to Arianna than was shown! You'll just have to wait and see. _

_P.S. I noticed! I read Conan Doyle when I was like nine or ten, but I loved it instantly. Sherlock is totally my kind of character. I haven't really read P.D James but I'll surely check it out now! Literature is the best thing ever. x)_

**anon: **_Haha, yes. Holy Spemily! :D_

**LaughLoveLiveXx: **_Thank you! I do think Spencer's a great friend to have (who doesn't?) and they do enjoy flirting (although they don't really term it that in their heads). Haha, people are really loving to hate Arianna, right? Danielle's definitely more suited to Arianna, but for obvious reasons, Ari has her eyes set on Emily (who wouldn't?)._

**itsmetati: **_Thank you so much! I'll try to update as much as possible. _

**SpemilyForever: **_Thanks so much! I tried to make it different from the show because obviously it's set in the future. Thank you for being so very understanding! x) _


	9. Life Imitates Art II

**A/N: So sorry for the delay in the update. I kept altering the chapter because I was unhappy with it.**

* * *

**Chapter 9 - Life Imitates Art (II)**

"So, did they end up solving the Holbrook Homicides?", Martha Wolfe asked, a bored curiosity edging her voice.

"The what?", Arianna spat out, finally paying attention to a conversation that had been boring her out of her mind.

She didn't know why she'd agreed to cover this little event in Philly. There was so much that she could've been doing right now. Instead, she was stuck in a room full of blasphemous objects posing as art, and she felt claustrophobic. On top of everything, Emily had disappeared somewhere, which made her feel nervous. Arianna had been keeping her distance from her girlfriend because of the tremendous guilt that was crushing her. The guilt that made her want to blurt out the truth. But she was afraid that it would ruin everything. So she kept quiet. And she kept her distance.

"That's what the papers are calling it. Just because you work for one doesn't mean you should stop reading the others", Martha tutted, a gloating smile lining her thin lips.

Ugh, Arianna wanted to kill that caricature of a woman in front of her.

"I don't read awful newspapers like the Holbrook Headlines", Arianna stated simply, her eyes wandering off again. The murders and thefts had interested her for a while. They had led her to that fateful interview with that gentleman that must not be named. They had forced her footsteps to Danielle's door. (But she knew she was just blaming destiny for her own mistakes.)

Martha smiled like a gargoyle, apparently finding the situation very funny. "Of course you're saying that. They're your competition. I love the little celeb tidbits they have! And Sudoku!", she trilled.

"I'm paid to say that, so", Arianna shrugged, finally spotting her girlfriend making her way towards them. Thank God.

Emily looked a little distracted, her eyes unfocused, as if she was looking at something very far away. Arianna wanted to climb inside her mind and learn all her secrets, but she knew that would be hypocritical. She had her own to guard, after all. As soon as the swimmer reached her, Arianna bent her head close to Emily, giving her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Huh. You finally decided to save me. If you'd been a minute late, I would've been giving the psycho murderer in town a run for his money", Arianna whispered, slipping her arm around Emily's waist like it belonged there. She wanted to show everyone around that this gorgeous girl belonged only to her. And no one else. (Certainly not that shifty Hastings who had come to lunch the other day, and whom she spotted out of the corner of her eye.)

"Oh. If I'd known it was that bad, I would've stopped to admire the paintings on my way here", Emily joked, smiling tauntingly at her girlfriend. Her tone was jovial, but there was something steely underneath it. Like she almost meant that she wanted to see Arianna suffer.

Arianna batted at her hand, pretending to look indignant. "No, you wouldn't. I'm the cruel one. You're the Florence Nightingale", she grinned, interlacing their fingers while Martha blabbered on and on about something insignificant. Ugh. Mortals.

"So, Ari, why didn't you bring Emily to Thursday's brunch? I could've introduced her to the girls. At least she'd know someone who's not Sofia Rivebel." Martha rolled her eyes, looking slightly scandalized, as if she'd just taken the devil's name in a church.

"I had practice", Emily pitched in before Arianna could open her mouth (or even think of an appropriate excuse).

"But Rob told me that school was off for Thursday? He didn't have any hockey training", Martha said, her over-plucked eyebrows arching and threatening to disappear in her disgusting bangs.

"I made the swim team have an extra practice. The girls like it when it's quiet", Emily quietly explained, looking composed. But Arianna could feel the tremors in her hands, the nervous fidgeting that was almost invisible to anyone who wasn't looking. She was getting good at reading Emily. Well, at least she had a hang of the alphabet. She was just beginning to string together basic words now.

"Oh, I see", Martha replied, apparently satisfied for the moment. She quickly moved on to another boring topic, and Arianna took that opportunity to sweep her gaze around the gallery. Smartly dressed people milled around, masks of polite curiosity carefully affixed to their bland faces. Everyone looked like they were clones of each other. Suddenly, she felt the need to get away. She didn't belong here at all. What was she but a scruffy journalist?

Just then, her eyes fell on something that made her feel as if she'd jumped out of bed and found that the ground no longer existed.

A very familiar pair of brown eyes were staring right back at her.

* * *

Emily really wished she was anywhere but here, but she couldn't think of a good enough excuse to stage her escape from there. Plus, Arianna was acting really weird. Her eyes had been looking glazed for the past half an hour of their conversation, and all she managed were curt little 'hmm' sounds that only made Martha talk more and more and honestly, she was getting a headache right now.

She looked at her girlfriend and noticed Arianna staring off into the distance. She followed her gaze, and her eyes met with a surprising figure.

"Oh my god, it's my college roommate!", Emily exclaimed, clutching at this excuse like a drowning man grasped at straws. "I'm so sorry Martha, but I really really have to go say hi. I haven't seen her since college ended. Yes, of course we'll keep in touch. Do you mind if I borrow Ari too? Thanks." Grabbing onto her girlfriend's arm, she steered them across the gallery to the familiar form standing next to a curious looking installation. Or at least, she tried to.

"Uhm, babe? Can we escape before it's too late?", she whispered to Arianna, who seemed to have grown roots and frozen on the spot. "I'm just taking you there to introduce you to her and you're acting like you're about to be guillotined."

"Something like that", Arianna muttered under her breath, becoming limp and letting Emily drag her to her doom.

"Hey Emily. Long time no see", the figure greeted them, looking pleasantly surprised. (Damn, she was a good actor.)

"Dani! You promised you'd keep in touch!", Emily playfully chided her friend as they reached her, punching her lightly in the arm. "You totally dropped off the radar."

Danielle Cruz stood in front of them, looking slightly amused as she swung her doe-like eyes from Emily to Arianna, as if taking stock of the situation. "I could say the same about you, you know! Big-shot swimmer. I want your autograph, by the way. Big fan", she aired herself, pretending to hyperventilate. Emily chuckled at her antics, turning to her girlfriend. Her expression clearly insinuated that Arianna should make something of an introduction. (Which certainly amused at least two people present.)

"Er..hi. I'm Arianna. Eh..I'm Emily's girlfriend", Arianna offered, smiling weakly at Danielle. "Eh..Emily never mentioned you", she blurted out, earning a reproachful look from her girlfriend.

"I'm Dani. Emily and I studied Psychology together. I daresay she was better at it than me, though. It's a pleasure meeting you." Danielle's eyes flashed, and the look didn't go unnoticed by Emily. She wondered if her girlfriend was currently being hit on. (She didn't want to wonder why she didn't feel jealous.)

"So, Dani...are you still dating Mr. Hot Doctor?", Emily asked, steering the conversation away from that awkward introduction. She'd really been hoping her old roommate and her girlfriend could get along, but apparently Arianna didn't take well to any of her old friends. (Yes, she was thinking of Spencer.)

"Eh..yeah. Sort of." Danielle didn't really elaborate, and Emily didn't push it.

"Arianna's a journalist. She's covering this event, actually", Emily explained, suddenly brimming with pride. Just like a good girlfriend should. (Anything to keep that certain somebody off her mind.) "We live in Holbrook, and you should definitely come over one day. Are you still living in Newburgh?"

"Nope, I've shifted bases to NYC. And I'll certainly visit. That is...if Arianna doesn't mind", Danielle replied pleasantly, pausing before the last part, looking with what could only be defined as a smirk towards the journalist.

"Oh, um. Of course I do." Realizing her gaffe, Arianna hastened to correct herself. "Of course I do want you to come over, Dani. Emily could do with some old faces in a new place." Ugh, double meanings.

"It's settled then. You are so coming over. Next week, maybe? And you'll have to tell me all about what you're doing. We'll have so much fun", Emily grinned.

She felt happy to see an old friend. Seemed like the night was full of pleasant surprised (barring that unfortunate encounter with Martha). Dani had been a really good friend of hers in college, and she was probably one of the nicest people Emily had ever met. She had found a kindred spirit in Dani back when she'd felt out of sorts in such a new environment, and she really wanted to reconnect with someone (else) from her past. (Someone who wasn't _that _someone.)

Maybe something good was going to come out of this evening after all. She could associate this night to a fortunate meeting with her old friend. (And stop thinking of it as a collage of those brief touches, those witty rejoinders, that laugh.) At least she'd found something else to do at this boring place instead of look and look and look, hoping to get an _entirely_ accidental glimpse of Spencer.

* * *

Spencer found Toby standing in a corner next to a wooden structure that looked like an elephant trying to swallow itself. She suppressed a laugh at that hideous installation and tried to look apologetic for abandoning her fiance. She could nail it. She'd been in enough plays and drama clubs in her life to know how to do a perfect rendition of '_I'm-sorry-I-forgot-about-your-existence' _look.

"Hey. You came back for me!" Toby's face lit up like a child's in a candy shop, and Spencer felt like she'd already been forgiven before she could say her sorry's.

"I am so so sorry. This client cornered me and forced me to talk to him and comment on several art pieces that looked more like mangled remains of a roadkill than real art." Did that sound like a sound excuse? Spencer could only hope that he wouldn't comment on it.

"I saw you with Emily..", Toby whispered, looking at Spencer without any emotion on his face.

"Oh."

"Yeah. I didn't go over because I didn't want to..", Toby paused, gesticulating with his hands to express whatever he couldn't put into words, "..to interrupt anything." He was looking intently at Spencer, as if trying to peek into the dimly lit confines of her well-guarded soul.

"I..eh...yeah." Spencer's heart beat frantically as she tried to back her way out of the situation. What could she say? She had no idea. "Yes. I was talking...to her."

"Talking or arguing?" There was a mild accusatory tone to Toby's voice, but it was also exceedingly gentle.

"Not arguing. Just...talking. I didn't know she was going to be here." Another lie. So many lies, all piled on top of each other, all vying for space, all of them presenting a false facade to someone who was supposed to know her inside her.

"Spencer.." Toby's voice lowered, and his eyes looked around. He put a comforting hand on her arm, and pulled her closer to the wall, creating an invisible bubble around them. "You have to forgive her. You know that what you did wasn't...right."

Spencer's anger flashed, silent but deadly. How could he pretend like he understood the situation? (How could he open up old wounds when everything was going so well?) "It's none of your business."

Toby looked wounded, and his face closed off, his eagerness being wiped off by Spencer's ire. "I'm sorry. It's just...I care about her too, you know. And I know her. I'm sure she wants your friendship back." He cupped her chin, forcing her to face him. He looked her squarely in the eye, his expression very serious. "I think she needs you, Spence. She's in a new place...a new town. We should be helping her. Not shutting her out."

"I'm not! Stop trying to make me feel guilty. I have to go.." Spencer didn't wait for a reply and turned around, furiously striding away, letting the crowd swallow her before she opened her mouth and confessed everything. About how what Toby wanted was already the reality. How she'd been sneaking away at nights just to be with Emily. (In a completely platonic way.) How all those business lunches and dinners she'd been going to lately were really camouflage for something much more exciting.

She was asking him to stop making her feel guilty, but not for the reasons he imagined. Not at all.

* * *

Emily knocked on the bathroom door, shifting her weight from one foot to another. She rapped her knuckles against the wood again, impatience beginning to rise in her. "Ari? You're really taking a long time."

Silence answered her and she sighed, beginning to turn away to trudge down the corridor to the other bathroom. Before she could move, however, she heard faint sniffles on the other side of the door, followed by what sounded like a choked sob.

"Ari..?", Emily called out gently, twisting the door knob and walking into the bathroom.

She found the crouched figure of her girlfriend near the bowl-like wash basin, almost curled up in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. Now and then, a sniffle would echo through the tiled blue confines of the bathroom, but Arianna seemed oblivious to it. She looked up when Emily walked in, her red-rimmed eyes watery and surprised. She looked like a cornered animal.

"Emily. There's something I have to tell you."

* * *

The rain lashed at the window, an accomplice to the threatening howls of the wind. Spencer was perched at the edge of her window seat, watching the frosted glass cry slightly acidic tears. Toby and her had driven home in silence. She hadn't had a glimpse of Emily since they'd said their goodbyes. Emily hadn't been answering her texts and discreet calls. She had tried to read something (like her beloved dog-eared copy of _The Three Investigators - The Mystery of the Stuttering Parrot_ ) but Emily's inexplicably attractive presence in her mind had tugged at her thoughts like a lodestone until she had had to admit defeat.

So she had decided to gaze out of her window in the general direction of Emily's current residence (whose shape was very obscure through the sheets of icy rain) like a lovelorn heroine in a black and white film. The camera would be zooming into her face now, which was thrown half in shadow and half lit by the diffused moonlight. She sighed. If life were a movie, her door bell would be ringing now, and Emily would be on the other side, kidnapping her instead of being kidnapped for a change.

The doorbell's monotonic chime decided to interrupt her thoughts right then. Spencer woke up from her trance with a start, wondering if she'd imagined it.

"Spencer! Can you get the door, please? I'm kinda working on something", came Toby's muffled yell from somewhere in the house.

So she hadn't just conjured up the persistent ringing of the door with her overactive imagination. It was real. She went downstairs, hurrying towards the door. Whoever was outside would be facing the wrath of the unusual downpour currently besieging Holbrook.. And could it be—?

The door swung open, and Spencer found Emily standing on her porch, soaked to the skin. Her lips were pressed in a thin line (probably to stop her teeth from chattering), and unmistakable cold-induced tremors shook her body. Her eyes were puffed, as if she'd recently been crying, and her face looked stained with more than just rain. The sight made Spencer's heart shatter in what felt like a million hurting pieces.

She rushed to Emily's side, wrapping her arms around the raven-haired girl, rubbing her back to preserve whatever warmth that remained there.

"Em, what's wrong? Emily?", she whispered soothingly, pressing her forehead against the side of Emily's face.

"Please take me away, Spence. I need you." Emily's voice was a raw groan, as if each word was fighting its way out and hurting her in the process.

Spencer didn't wait for an explanation. She ushered Emily inside to provide a necessary respite from the freezing rain, grabbed her car keys from the bowl near the door, and pulled out a long coat from the hallway closet, putting it around the shivering girl.

"Wait here. Toby's inside so he won't notice you. I'll get the car out of the garage, and then you can join me."

Emily nodded mutely, her eyes glazed with pain.

Spencer almost ran outside, getting the garage open and barreling into the driver's seat. She gunned the engine, turned on the heater on full blast, and with squealing tires, pulled out onto the road. She watched the blurry image of Emily's form rush towards the car and get inside without a word.

"You closed the door behind you, right?"

Emily nodded again, her eyes unfocused, as she began to rock back and forth.

Spencer felt something terrible twist her chest, and anguish seep into her very being. She hated seeing Emily like this. She had never seen Emily like this. It was making her feel like her very insides were being burnt with acid. She tried to assume an understanding expression (what would Emily do in such a situation?) and leaned forward to secure the seat belt around her friend (what an inadequate word).

Without asking for any specific directions—in fact, without having any specific directions in her own mind—she stepped down on the accelerator and let the car move down the asphalt like a rudderless boat.

* * *

**A/N : **_So, short-ish chapter that was. Hope you guys liked it!_

**spinoza-off: **_That's actually one of my favourite songs too. And I thought it fit the situation perfectly (Poor Toby). And I feel like Spencer and Emily, especially their contrast in characters, is what makes their 'banter' so amusing and flirty, yes. xD_

**LaughLoveLiveXx: **_Your French is really good! It does indeed mean that, although I know it more as a figure of speech than actual French. I'm more of a Spanish person. I try to keep true to the characters and I'm glad you could picture it! That means it wasn't too far-fetched. xD Emily is more of herself around Spencer, and I think they really do allow each other glimpses of each other that they would never show anyone else.  
And thank you so much! :)_

**ILuvFadam: **_Haha, thanks! I sure will. Spencer can possibly make anyone's bed rock. ;)_

Guest_ : Thank you so much! I hope you liked the drama that unfolded in the latter part of the night._

**gaby2angel**:_ Thank you! I'll keep that in mind as a plot twist!_

**LittleLiarLovesEmily:**_ Sorry sorry sorry! I'm sure you'll see something in the next chapter. You'll just have to wait and watch. ;) I just love drawing out the sexual tension between them._

**x-sugarfree-x **:_ They are being very secretive and even they can't explain it to themselves!  
Shay's always on my dash. And I don't think anyone minds. That girl is pure gorgeousness._

Leah_: Thank you so much! I try to keep it very close to the whole Type-A personality she has, plus all her quirks. Your English isn't bad at all. xD My Spanish sucks (although I took it as a subject for three years.) But I totally got what you wrote without using Google Translate! Yay me. xD_

**tharuka** :_ Wow, what a compliment. xD I shall try to keep up with your expectations!_


	10. Burnt Out Stars

**Chapter 10 - Burnt-Out Stars**

The rain had gradually let up and was now nothing more than a whisper against the glass. The street lights threw weird shadows and shapes against the dashboard of the car, a feature film that seemed engrossing to Emily. She knew she'd reacted on an impulse. Coming to Spencer's house like that. With no thoughts about the consequences. What if Toby had answered that door? What if it had been him finding a disheveled (read: shattered) Emily on the other side of his front door? How would she have explained herself?

She didn't know.

She realized she hadn't even cared. It felt as if she'd just woken up from a nightmare. A haze of despair had clouded her logic, her mind, her everything. And the only cure she could think of was Spencer.

Spencer. The strong, solid girl sitting next to her. Driving silently. A quiet support. She hadn't said a word since they'd set off so suddenly from Holbrook. No artificially sweet words meant to console. No prying questions. No gentle demands for explanations. Spencer, who was handling this so perfectly that Emily wanted to leap from her seat and hug her and thank her and cry.

No. No crying. She'd wasted enough tears already.

(On someone who entirely didn't deserve it.)

"Spence?"

Spencer almost jumped from her seat, getting so surprised that she lost control of the steering wheel and almost collided with the median. She regained her composure at the last moment, veering the car away from an accident.

"God, Em!" Spencer slowed the car down, going at a respectable forty. "You scared me", she grinned in a very Spencer-esque way, throwing a glance at Emily's direction.

"I didn't know you were that easy to scare", Emily replied slowly, a broken smile lining her lips. (It was a start.)

"Well, you've been silent for about an hour now. You didn't even give me a warning."

"How was I supposed to give you a warning?", Emily asked, raising an eyebrow at Spencer's unusually disjointed logic.

"I don't know!", Spencer mumbled, shrugging. "You could've at least cleared your throat. Or coughed. Like a little _ahem-ahem."_

"I wasn't about to give a speech or a toast or something." Emily felt another smile wake up inside her and make its way to her lips. She crushed it, choked it, battered it till it died a slow death, unseen. "You are ridiculous."

"Says the girl who showed up at my door at ten thirty in the pouring rain and begged me to elope with her." Spencer's tone was light, and her words were intended as a joke. But she had ventured into the territory that they'd been avoiding and ignoring for the best part of the hour. She's brought up something neither of them were willing to discuss. (Emily wasn't willing to explain, Spencer wasn't willing to ask, although she was surely itching to.)

"I'm sorry", Emily quietly muttered, turning her face away and watching lonely looking cars speed by them. The light that had begun to shine through her cloudy demeanor had flickered off, leaving Spencer marooned in the dark.

"Em. I'm not going to ask you if you're okay. What I want to ask you is why you're not." The words were gentle, like a silent invitation. No need to accept. No need to RSVP. Spencer would take anything but she wouldn't take Emily shutting her out.

Emily felt the festering cut inside her being prodded, sending fresh waves of pain through her veins. Cures hurt too. You couldn't dress a wound without making it sting a little. Spencer was trying to help. But the pain was making her eyes smart, and her vision began to grow blurry again. The world swam, the lights floated, the rain-dewed glass melted in front of her eyes. She choked a sob in her throat, she clamped her lips together and pressed her cheek against the cold glass.

She couldn't reply. She couldn't say the words.

If she did, it would mean that they were real.

And this was a reality she wasn't ready to face. Not yet. So she kept quiet and Spencer, like the absolutely wonderful human being she was, kept silent too. She kept driving like their sudden conversation hadn't even taken place.

That was exactly what Emily needed. Time. Time to process everything. Time to process the absolute betrayal. No. She didn't want to think about it. Thinking about it made her want to throw up. It made her want to smash something. (And she wasn't a violent person. Not at all.)

Thinking about it made her want to hurt Arianna in the exact same way that she'd been hurt.

But she couldn't do that. She wouldn't. She wasn't that person. So she tried to count the cars they passed, grew tired of it, and dozed off somewhere in the middle of the extremely silent car ride.

* * *

Spencer stopped the car near the lake they'd visited what felt like lifetimes ago. (She wished she could spend lifetimes with the sleeping girl next to her, in this place. Wishes, dangerous things.)

"Em? Emily? Wake up!" She gently unstrapped Emily's seat-belt, and shook the slumped form of the taller girl. She didn't want to wake her up. In fact, she just wanted to watch her sleeping. It beat watching her anguished and torn. It was definitely better than listening to her trying to silence her tears in vain. But she _needed_ to make this right. _Emily_ needed _her_ to make this right. That's what she'd said. Right?

Emily opened her eyes slowly, blinking as though her eyelids were weighed down with stones. Her eyes widened, her eyelashes fluttered rapidly, as if she was surprised by the sight of Spencer looming over her, as if she'd forgotten that they'd set off from home a few hours ago. She composed herself and straightened in her seat, trying to smooth the creases in her dress. (The same dress that she'd worn to the art gallery, which now looked crumpled and...somehow, sad-looking. Like evidence from the scene of a crime.)

"Where are we?", Emily asked groggily, rubbing the lingering vestiges of sleep from her still-swollen eyes.

"Shh, just come." Spencer took Emily's hand, and pulled her carefully out of the car. Well, almost. She somehow ended up accidentally knocking Emily's head against the car door.

"Ouch. Spence!", Emily groaned, rubbing a spot on her forehead, shooting daggers with her eyes at her friend.

"I am so sorry! Oh god, are you okay?", Spencer gasped, pushing Emily's hair out of the way and inspecting the harmless looking little bruise that was beginning to form near her temples. She grinned when she realized it was probably nothing. "You sure you don't have a concussion? Maybe we should get a CAT scan."

Emily batted Spencer's hand away, looking indignant. "Way to apologize, Hastings."

Spencer resisted the urge to chuckle (knowing that it would probably earn a well-deserved head-bashing against car-door or perhaps windshield from Emily) and silently led her to the bank of the glassy lake. Memories of the night they had spent here resurfaced in Spencer's mind, feeling her with an unnatural calm. They were as familiar as the pictures in her old photo album, worn and crinkled from being revisited frequently.

"Oh", Emily breathed out when she recognized the place. "I really like this place..", she whispered, as if afraid to break the tranquil stillness of the night. The sharp pain in her chest had reduced to a dull, background throbbing. Her sadness now possessed an unusual ebb and flow, flooding her periodically in lazy waves.

"I figured. You think the water's gonna be really cold?", Spencer asked, taking her heels off and walking barefoot towards the place where the water met with the gravelly sand. She tentatively dipped a toe into the clear liquid, creating tiny ripples that disturbed the frozen-looking surface.

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't", Emily stated quite confidently, mimicking Spencer's movements and taking her own shoes off. The ground was still damp from the rain, and her slow steps created shallow impressions on the mud, her signature next to Spencer's. "Why the sudden interest in the water?"

Spencer turned around, appearing satisfied with her minute examination of the water's temperature. "Let's go swimming", she suggested, her eyes glinting like it always did when she thought she had a brilliant idea. She wasn't smiling though, and her intense gaze made Emily avert her eyes.

Spencer was holding her breath, water pooling around her legs, mud swirling around her bare ankles. She really didn't know when this random thought that come to her. She'd planned on just bringing Emily here to talk. But it was obvious that Emily didn't want to talk. At all. And her coal eyes were burning, not like they had been burning the other night, they were sucking the light from the moon. Whenever Spencer looked at those inky black eyes, she felt like she was staring into a black-hole. The burnt out remains of a dying star. It was scaring her and hurting her and maybe the water would flush out that black, angry fire, maybe it would dampen that dark, tortured blaze. Maybe.

Emily's mind was whirling. This was Spencer's great idea to cheer her up? Would it really provide a distraction? Wouldn't the water remind her of everything bad? (Everything she didn't want to think of? Everything she had given up?)

"I knocked my head, but you seem to be dealing with the side-effects, Spence. We can't go swimming! The water must be really cold, and we don't have swimsuits and I'm so not swimming in this dress and besides I don't even feel like it and it really wouldn't—"

"Shh", Spencer interrupted, unable to hold back any longer. "We'll just go skinny dipping. Like we used to back in sixth grade. Remember?"

Emily's mouth dropped open, and she began to shake her head vehemently. No, no. Absolutely not. That would improve nothing. It would ruin everything. Besides, they'd only gone skinny dipping when there were others with them (Aria, Hanna...Alison). Never alone. Never like this. No. She wouldn't agree.

Spencer's eyebrows rose in warning, her jaw setting like it did whenever she was absolutely resolute on something. It was obvious she wasn't going to take no for an answer. "Don't make me make you", she warned, her voice low and firm. She didn't want to force Emily. She was sure that it would make things worse. But she was also sure that this would really help. And she wanted to help. "When was the last time you swam anyways? You've been too busy with coaching and timing your students and everything."

Emily sighed, caving in under the persistent duress of Spencer's eyes. Yes, maybe she'd do this. It couldn't hurt to try, right? And perhaps the water would be cold enough to make her completely numb. Perhaps it would freeze her emotions. Perhaps it would drown out her grief, and murder her thoughts. Perhaps the clinging memory of this train-wreck of a night would wash away.

"Fine. But remember that you are an unfair, tyrannical dictator."

The force in the statement only made Spencer laugh, then shut up when she Emily glared at her in a frightening manner. She watched the taller girl move to join her, watching her hesitant steps sink into the sand under her feet, watched her hands move up to the straps of her dress and push them away clumsily.

Now would be the time to avert your eyes, Spencer.

But she didn't. She couldn't. Emily passed her, walking further into the reaches of the lake. Spencer felt like her eyesight had suddenly improved, and each raw detail stood out with precision. She saw the goosebumps that had begun to rise on Emily's tanned, smooth arms, she noticed the flash of a lacy bra (she felt her breath hitch and her conscience burn) under Emily's dress which was on its way off her body. She noticed all this without meaning to. (But she watched all of this because she wanted to.)

She almost turned her eyes away when she saw the dress sail past her and land on the shore in a crumpled heap. But she felt she was being stupid. She'd seen Emily undress countless times. (But this was the first time that she was looking and noticing and burning up.) There was nothing unfamiliar in the curve of her bare shoulder, nothing she'd never seen before. But for some vague reason—that Spencer pushed underneath the surface of her consciousness—her eyes roamed the sharp rise of shoulder blades and the curve of hips with more than just idle curiosity.

"Aren't you going to be joining me?", came Emily's voice, breaking into Spencer's thoughts. She was now fully undressed, her beautiful dark complexion glowing and merging with the molten silver of the lake.

"I..eh..yeah." Spencer hastily took off the over-sized t-shirt she was wearing, one that had belonged to Toby many years ago. She had started wearing it because it smelled like him and felt like him, but his perfume had disappeared over time, and now nothing remained in the scruffy cotton except the vanilla smell of the fabric softener they used. She hadn't even changed out of her comfy, plaid, pajama bottoms before leaving home, whose ends were now rimmed with wet mud and soaked completely. The cold wind assaulted her senses, making her shiver once she was completely undressed. This was a mad idea. She had no idea why she'd suggested it in the first place.

Oh, right. Emily.

Emily.

Emily who loved water like a mermaid did. Emily who needed to be around things she loved. (And people.)

(Why hadn't she thought of the pool then? Why hadn't she planned this beforehand? Yeah, of course. Because Spencer Hastings had lost all her logic and reason the minute Emily Fields had stepped in front of her door.)

She needed to focus on Emily now.

Emily, who was nowhere in sight.

"Em? Where are you?", Spencer called out, trudging through the cold water that made the skin of her legs tingle. She heard the splash of water too late and before she knew it, a pair of hands had grabbed her ankle and proceeded to pull her into the depths of the lake. She felt her head go underwater, and saw nothing but blurry, bluish-green lights swimming in her vision. She resurfaced a moment later, and found herself quite a bit away from the shore, still no Emily in sight.

"Are you done taking your revenge?", Spencer asked out loud, pushing limp, wet locks out of her eyes.

"Maybe", came a voice behind her, warm breath hitting her shoulder, making goosebumps rise in its wake. Spencer turned around, standing on tiptoes to keep her head above water. A familiar smile curling Emily's lips greeted her, making her stomach swoop a little. (Although she attributed her reaction to the shock from the sand shifting beneath her feet.)

"Who's being unfair now?", Spencer complained, reaching out and nudging Emily's shoulder.

"You're in my turf now. You can't be best at everything", Emily mocked her in a sing-song voice. Spencer was relieved to see that the black fire in her eyes had died down a little, and was nothing more than a flickering flame now. The water was doing its job. Fire versus ice.

"If I tried, I'm sure I could beat you." The cocky tone had returned to Spencer's voice, perhaps much more exaggerated than usual. She wanted to return to normalcy. Wanted to indulge in conversation that would restore Emily to her Emily.

"No one can beat me", Emily shrugged, her demureness gone for once. She turned around and dove underwater, her swiftly moving legs following her. All Spencer could make out was the ripple of the water above what she thought to be Emily's figure moving fast under the shimmering surface. She was enthralled, awed by the fluidity of her movements. Each motion, each fall and rise of her arm, each stroke that sliced through the glittering surface, was like watching the deft movements of an artist's brush.

God. Spencer needed to _stop _thinking.

Emily felt like she was some aquatic creature who had been deprived of its environment; returning to the water, feeling the movement of the liquid beneath her strong muscles, reveling in the pleasant burn in her arms made her mind drift away into blissfulness. God, she'd missed swimming. Swimming like this. Without times to worry about, without having anyone to beat, without paying extra attention to every stroke. The shocking effect of the cold water was wearing off and it was almost a soothing relief to her now. All her senses were alive, and she could practically feel the liquid shifting around her with every nerve ending that she possessed.

Spencer watched Emily's strokes describe a perfect circle and return to its center. To her.

"You are so good", Spencer whispered once Emily's was within earshot, letting the swimmer notice the admiration that was evident on the usually composed face. Emily's shyness made a comeback and she lowered her eyes, accepting the compliment quietly. (That expression did things to the space within Spencer's chest that she couldn't name.)

"Please go back to being a pro. I can't see how you won't be winning us medals at the Olympics. You'll make them eat dust. Or..rather, drink water", Spencer continued, oblivious to the sudden change in the air, the almost unnoticeable alteration to Emily's expression. By the time that Spencer realized that she'd said something wrong (another misstep, again) it was too late. Emily's eyes were pitch black, frozen ash, burnt-out stars again. And her smile had withered, her light had flickered off, her mouth had turned upside down in an obvious show of despair.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry." Spencer half swam, half bobbed towards Emily, grasping her shoulder in a silent show of comfort. "I shouldn't have said that." Spencer could feel herself entering Emily's gravitational field (apparently burnt-out stars still retained their pull), she could feel the dark energy emanating from the tanned girl next to her, she could almost sense the pinpricks of lights dotting the sky begin to go out one by one.

Emily shied away from Spencer's touch, her face twisted in a picture of pure agony. Spencer wanted to negate her movement, wanted to erase the distance between them, wanted to tell Emily that it was just her, that there was nothing to worry about. But she couldn't find the right words. Perhaps for the first time in her life, Spencer's mind was nothing but a blank, and she almost fell under the illusion of the water around her hardening into ice, mimicking her own inability to act. She watched the tides broken by the sudden splash of a golden form, gazed helplessly as Emily increased the unbearable distance between them, watched the night swallow her up as she reached the shore and fished for her clothes.

Spencer followed mechanically, suddenly hyper-aware of the coldness of the lake, of the countless goosebumps on her arms, the prune-like texture of her fingertips. She felt unnaturally shy (she was never, ever self-conscious) when she reached the banks, but she soon noticed that she had nothing to worry about. Emily was seated on the remains of a dead, grey tree, her form half-hidden by gnarled branches twisting towards the sky. Spencer got dressed, wrung out her hair, and cautiously approached the quiet girl.

"Emily?"

No reply. Not even an acknowledgement of her presence.

"I'm so sorry for hurting you. Because I really didn't mean to."

Again, no response. But Spencer did notice a slight change in the tanned girl's posture, a minute shift in her irregular breathing.

"I want to know what I said wrong." Spencer reviewed her words, wondering if they sounded like an order. "Please", she added in an unsure voice.

Emily's lip quivered, and she turned her face away like she always did. A solitary tear slid down her cheek, a drop of fluid diamond painting a straight line down bronze cheeks. She was trying so hard to be strong. So hard that it made Spencer want to tell her to stop trying. That it was okay to break down. That it would be alright if Emily broke down in front of her. She wouldn't mind at all.

Emily could think about nothing but how the girl she had sacrificed her everything for had cheated on her. Broken her trust. Betrayed her love. After everything Emily had given up for Arianna, she had been rewarded with nothing but infidelity. And it had broken her heart (and it continued to do so) and that swimming comment was just too much, too soon. She couldn't help but feel the wound inside her multiply into a million little cuts that burned as if they had been sprinkled with lemon and salt (and lethal acid).

"She cheated on me, Spence." Emily's voice was quiet, but it held a mechanical quality, as if it had been uttered by a robot, or had just filtered through millions of miles of telephone lines. "I gave up everything for her and it still wasn't enough."

Those words seemed to have the effect of a key, unlocking the gates to the flood that Emily had been keeping in check. She started sobbing, her teardrops falling to the sand and leaving their reminder. She let herself be pulled into a hug by Spencer who had leaped to her side, she let her hair be brushed in a sympathetic manner, she let herself fall limp, surrendered herself to the torrent of emotion that was overwhelming her. She cried and cried till her tears ran dry, till her eyes felt like they were going to completely seal shut forever, till her arms ached from holding (clutching, grasping) onto Spencer.

Spencer was similarly stranded in a flood of feelings. Although hers varied radically from the former swimmer's. Her emotions were tainted with a violent red, not a melancholy blue. She saw crimson, she felt scarlet fury in her veins, her heart choked and swelled with a burst of fire-engine red hued hatred. If Emily hadn't been holding on so hard that it made movement almost impossible, Spencer was sure she would've done something as stupid as punch the water. Or kick against the sand. Or burn the entire world for making a moment possible where Emily was hurt and she could do nothing about it. For all the freezing water that had surrounded her, she now felt like she had just gone swimming in a pool of lava. Every little whimper, every choked sob, every shudder she felt passing through Emily felt like a stab of a double-edged, poison-dripping knife between her ribs, going straight for her heart. (Everything hurt so much, everything made her so, so angry.)

After what felt like years, Emily pulled away, disentangling herself from Spencer. Her red-rimmed eyes were still watery with unshed tears, and the redness of her nose was plainly visible despite her dark skin. "I'm sorry for breaking down like that." She gulped, biting her lip and looking into Spencer's eyes with heartbreaking honesty. "You must think I'm so weak...", she trailed off uncertainly.

Spencer shook her head vehemently in protest. "She's the weak one. I will annihilate her."

Emily's expression seemed to disagree. "Obviously it's my fault. Whenever I fall in love with someone, they leave. Everything always goes wrong for me."

"How is it your fault if _she _cheated? You're not thinking straight. She doesn't deserve you at all, Em." Spencer's voice had a pleading tone to it, and she clutched Emily's hands in hers, as if she could transmit her thoughts to her by mere touch.

Spencer felt so helpless, so utterly unable to offer anything but her words.

Stupid words that were doing nothing. Nothing at all.

Emily's fingers tightened around Spencer's and she looked down. Remnants of tears were still clinging to her long lashes, and it was all Spencer could do to not reach out and brush them away.

"Maybe if I hadn't left her all those months ago...Maybe if I'd been a better girlfriend. I don't know, Spence. I mess everything up. It's not her fault that I wasn't interesting enough...", Emily murmured, pain and shame lacing her voice, feeling familiar insecurities rise up again. Arianna had always made her feel like she was doing Emily a favour by being in a relationship with her. As if she had had to move mountains and swim across seas to be able to be with Emily. Emily had always felt that she was never good enough for her. And now she had the proof to back her suspicions. She was a mere nobody. "I just wish I'd done things differently, you know? Maybe if I'd been nicer, or more caring or—"

Spencer couldn't stop herself anymore. She stopped the flow of Emily's words with a finger to her lips. (She could still feel the deep imprints that teeth had made there during their crying session.)

"Em, listen to me", Spencer started, ignoring the look of surprise that flitted through coal-black eyes.

"You are perfect. No, scratch that. You are better than perfect. Perfect's boring. I'm perfect and look at how dull I am", she ventured, smiling a little at the last bit. "Ever since I've known you, I've been sure of one thing. That you, Emily Fields, were the best of us all. And perhaps that's why you always wanted to see the best in everyone else too. Even Alison. Even me, especially when I was a horrible person. You are the purest, nicest person I've ever known. And that's not all. You are also the...", Spencer stopped, pausing to catch her breath before she dove back into the flow of her sentence "...the most exquisite creature alive. Really. And anyone who would want to give your heart up would have to be the biggest moron on the face of this planet."

Despite all the sadness weighing her down, Emily felt something in her heart sprout wings and start to flutter. She had never seen such raw honesty on Spencer's face, never heard her speak like this before. Her trademark husky voice was scratchier, and those pools of burnt sienna were staring into Emily with such fierce intensity that she felt like she'd been laid bare before Spencer. All her troubles, all her complexes, all her fears, all her doubts were suddenly under the magnifying glass of her gaze. And they disappeared, turned to ash and dust and sifted away and suddenly, her burden was so much lighter. She could breathe again.

Emily allowed a little smile to appear on her lips. "You're just saying that because you love me too much", she whispered demurely, her eyes shining with gratitude.

Spencer's lips mirrored hers, and she inched closer, placing her palm on the smooth planes of Emily's cheek. Marble, stem-like fingers on glowing caramel skin. Spencer's eyes took in each excruciatingly stark detail of her face from the dimpled smile to the glittering stars for eyes.

"Maybe. But it's not my fault. I really love beautiful things", Spencer replied just as quietly, her words a mere exhalation, a silent prelude to what came later. Burnt-out stars had nothing on alive ones, ones that blazed with such eternal perfection in the dark corridors of Emily's eyes that Spencer felt like a mere meteor, burning up in their field. So she allowed herself to fall, blamed the gravity between their bodies for the distance between them suddenly disappearing.

The world seemed suspended in time and Spencer was reminded of a faint memory of a vague dream and all she could think about was how Emily smelled like burnt cinnamon, crushed peppercorns and something much more sweeter and headier. She leaned in, inhaling deeply like a drugged person, feeling like she was lost in deep woods without a compass or even a flashlight. What was she doing? She had no idea. (But she did. She knew exactly what she wanted and she was going to have it.)

Emily didn't move from her spot, did not even inch away as Spencer's face closed in. There was only an ever so slight widening of her eyes, and Spencer could feel her stop breathing. She was sure she herself wasn't breathing as well. She felt delirious, she felt like she had a fever, but she couldn't stop herself from drawing closer and closer until their noses touched, until their breaths got tangled like invisible silken threads.

Eyes burned holes into eyes, and Spencer felt something snap inside her. (It was a sensation that she had never come across before, so she didn't know what it meant.) She took a long, shaking breath and pressed her lips against Emily's.

Fire. Fire, everywhere.

The world was burning. The stars went out and the earth seemed to spin faster than ever and everything merged into one.

It was supposed to be nothing but a mere touch. A tentative start. Meaningless. But Spencer found herself kissing Emily hungrily, her hands moving of their own accord to her waist, pushing their bodies closer, closer, not enough, even closer until there was nothing left but a whisper of air between them. Emily's lips were frozen at first, and she gasped, a muffled sound, but now she was kissing Spencer back with restrained passion, as if wanting to stop but finding herself incapable of doing so.

Spencer wondered if maybe Emily just didn't have stars for eyes, but perhaps she was made out of millions of stars, made out of some fiery substance that tasted like heaven and burned its way down her throat like hell. Her lips were softer than she had imagined (and god, she _had _imagined) and they had this wonderful way of applying just the right pressure, yielding at the right times under Spencer's eager kisses. Their mouths fitted against each other like puzzle pieces, and their hands were everywhere, pulling, tugging, twisting useless pieces of fabric, anything to stop themselves from searching someplace else, someplace forbidden (for now). She felt tendrils of fire twist around them, enveloping them till she was sure they were blazing brighter than the sun, that they were a flaming torch of pure, unadulterated passion.

There were so many sensations crowding in on Spencer that she almost missed the sudden change in the charged atmosphere, she almost didn't notice Emily backing away, pulling out of the kiss inch by inch until their lips were touching no more and they were breathing (gasping, panting) into each other. Spencer wasn't going to let go so easily and she followed Emily almost unconsciously, like a moth to a flame, and captured her lips once again in a searing kiss that melted her insides and made her chest feel like it was about to burst.

Emily sighed into the kiss, giving in to the amazing pressure of Spencer's mouth against hers. She felt Spencer's hands twist in her hair, she felt her skinny arms lock Emily into place and she felt her resistance crumble against the overwhelming electricity that sizzled wherever their skins met (lips, fingers, arms, knees). She couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this (never), she couldn't recall when she had kissed with such emotion (again, never) and she really couldn't figure out when she had fallen in love with faint-vanilla and citrusy smell that Spencer carried with her everywhere. But she honestly didn't care. Spencer deepened the kiss, her hand moving to the small of Emily's back, her teeth grazing against edge of Emily's lips. Emily felt a sharp thrill run down her spin, felt herself open her mouth to grant entrance to her probing tongue, felt her head spinning with each drawn moment.

This was going to kill her.

It was going to kill them both.

But they kept kissing, moving away, breathing and kissing again, their lips participating in a complicated dance, their tongues intimately acquainting themselves with each other, their hearts beating rapidly in step with each others.

Spencer felt like she could do this forever, that perhaps this was what people meant by attaining nirvana, that perhaps she had finally had a lethal dosage of pure, human ecstasy. And she didn't ever want to stop feeling like this. So she held on to Emily like she was clinging on to the last remaining stands of sanity (or more accurately, blissful insanity) and allowed her actions to replace her words, allowed her kisses and touches and little back-of-the-throat sounds of appreciation to speak for themselves. This felt like a conversation that would last for hours.

* * *

**A/N: **_Soooo. Yep. For all those who had been craving some Spemily action, there you go! Lemme know what you thought? ;D_

**spinoza-off: **_You always catch onto those little things. Bravo, really. That's what I love about Spemily too. They're never too sweet with each other, they're not overly mushy, they're not...simple or uncomplicated or plain boring. There's just so many layers to their relationship that it's a pleasure to write about them, really. Their relationship somehow manages to encompass basically every shade of the emotional spectrum and that is why they're just too beautiful. Thanks a lot for the wonderful review._

**LaughLoveLiveXx: **_I love Spanish, it's such a great language. :D  
Yeah, as much as I want to focus on Spencer and Emily, I feel like robbing the other characters of the spotlight will make the story a little hard to follow as the plot is also very much about the other people and they are as integral in this story as Spemily.  
And yeah, poor Emily. She does get the short end of the stick too many times. And it's really not like she deserves it as well. But they do that in cannon a lot as well, so I thought doing that in this story would just tie in with her basic background.  
Oooh. I love how you picked up on that! We'll see how much exactly Toby knows in the future. :)  
Thanks a lot for your comments. _

_Guest: Hehe, I hope you find that it is a beautiful Spemily story too!_

**x-sugarfree-x:** _Danielle is very audacious, which would explain why Ari cheated on Emily with her of all people. I do feel so sorry for Toby, he's too good to Spencer, but we know that Spencer really belongs with Emily. You'll have to wait and find out what happens with Emily! And you are right, Ari doesn't let go of anything without a fight._**  
**

**tharuka:** _Sexual tension is possibly my favouritest thing ever. Haha. And thanks a lot! I hope I don't let you down. :)_**  
**

**LittleLiarLovesEmily:** _I hope you enjoyed the Spemily in this chapter. There's more waiting for later chapters! :)_


	11. Kiss And Yell

**A/N: **_Kind of a filler chapter. Sort of. Don't hate me for bringing back the angst. ;D_

* * *

**Chapter 10 - Kiss and Yell**

Emily Fields had learned quite a long time ago that she enjoyed kissing girls. Yes, she enjoyed it very very much indeed. But enjoyment was a gross understatement for what she was experiencing at the moment. See, the thing was, kissing girls was one thing. But kissing _the _girl, kissing Spencer _bloody _Hastings, was something she'd never thought she'd ever had the opportunity to indulge in. And the mere fact that Spencer was the one who had initiated it was something that almost blew her mind.

Almost.

Her mind was still very much there. And it was yelling at her (in a teeny tiny, almost easy-to-ignore voice) to stop. _Stop. _

Emily's conscience suddenly woke up, and she pulled away with a start, as if someone had just doused her with ice-cold water. Spencer's face followed hers, unwilling to let their embrace come to an abrupt end. But Emily firmly pushed her shoulders away (after first disentangling her hands from the knots she had formed in Spencer's quite large shirt), much to Spencer's obvious dismay. Emily jumped up to her feet, almost tripping on a jutting root in her sudden eagerness to put as much space between her and Spencer as possible.

Air, she needed air. She felt like she'd just swam underwater for hours, delirious with lack of oxygen (and flooded with sensations that were unnameable, unthinkable). She tried to ignore the crestfallen look on Spencer's face, she tried to still her own heaving chest. God, what had she just done? What had she allowed Spencer to do?

It made no sense.

No sense at all.

(But it had felt _so damn good._)

It was almost too difficult to clear the lust-induced haze in her mind. She couldn't even think clearly, couldn't even form coherent thoughts without a stray feeling making her blush inwardly.

How could Spencer have this effect on her? She was practically coming undone.

The same Spencer Hastings who hadn't displayed even the slightest interest in girls (or even Emily) until this night.

(Their flirting obviously didn't count. Friends did that, okay?)

This was hurting her head. (And someplace within her chest too.)

"Why did you do that?", Emily asked in a quiet, uncertain voice. She needed to know what had just happened. Now that the distance between them had resolved into something tangible and permanent (for the moment, at least), everything that had transpired seemed like a dream.

A really, amazingly vivid and detailed one at that.

The tension that Spencer usually wore well had returned to her shoulders, and Emily noticed the slight tremor of her hands, even from this distance. She looked so...vulnerable, so open. Her brow was creased with lines and she seemed similarly perplexed. She just shrugged in response. Then, perhaps deciding that she should be more coherent, she added, "I don't really know", almost as an afterthought.

Emily winced. Great. So this was just some spur-of-the-moment thing that hadn't meant anything. Just wonderful. She'd been feeling upset and cheated, and she'd gone ahead and let her best friend kiss her. She was a horrible and weak person. And she'd allowed Spencer to take advantage of that. She felt like kicking herself for being so stupid.

"Right. Of course. You don't know. I suppose you accidentally fell on my face? Twice? Three times?", Emily hissed bitterly, holding on to a branch for support. She suddenly felt drained of all the energy that had been charged into her by Spencer's heated touch. No, stop. She couldn't start thinking about that. She wouldn't think about that now or ever again.

"Emily", Spencer warned, her eyes flashing and her posture becoming stiff, upright. "I don't even know why you're saying these things." She really didn't understand. Okay, maybe she did. Emily was confused. And she had a right to be. Hell, even Spencer was confused. Very much so. The pleasant warmth that had flooded her from the passionate kisses were wearing off, and the look of hurt that had returned to Emily's face was making her feel extremely guilty. Ugh, now really wasn't the time to stop being eloquent and start spouting stupid sentences.

"You kissed me, Spencer", Emily accused her loudly, almost making Spencer jump.

The statement felt out of place in their serene environment, not because of the words, but because of their intonation. Because of what they implied. Yes, Spencer had kissed her. And she knew exactly why. But she couldn't even put it to herself in comprehensible sentences, therefore she had no idea how she was supposed to voice her feelings. The pure accusation in Emily's voice annoyed her to no end, though.

"Ehm, excuse me for a minute there. I'm not sure if I'm remembering this correctly, but didn't you kiss me back? You're acting like I took advantage of you", Spencer retorted. What was Emily implying anyways? That she hadn't wanted it as much as Spencer had? Like Spencer would ever believe that. They'd both participated in that dance, both had their equal parts to play and had played them quite well. Really really well, on Emily's part, actually. Excellent. Outstanding. Exceeding all expectations (read: fantasies).

She really had to learn how to control her thoughts. Really.

"Wait, you're not gonna pretend like it didn't happen? I'm surprised." Emily crossed her arms, glaring at Spencer. She didn't need to be reminded of what had happened. Each detail was already etched quite clearly in her mind—so much so that she was sure if she ever allowed herself to revisit the memory of this night, she would experience every single emotion that had flooded her.

"I really do not like the insinuation in your voice", Spencer replied, looking like she was trying really hard to keep calm. "You could've just said that I made a mistake." Her eyes widened when she realized the way her sentence sounded but it was too late now. Words couldn't be taken back.

Emily frowned and pressed her lips together. So a mistake was how Spencer was putting it? Great, just great. Not only was Spencer clearly not into girls, but she had apparently filed her kiss with Emily under the category of minor aberrations. Maybe she'd done it out of vengeance. Perhaps Emily had been too quick to assume that Spencer had truly forgiven her.

But that couldn't be right, could it? What about all the time they'd spent together? Did Spencer see that as a mistake too? Something to be forgotten? Was that why she'd insisted on hiding it from Toby, from everyone? Thinking so much was giving Emily a pounding headache. So she started speaking just to interrupt her flow of thoughts.

"I guess that was your way of messing with me because of the Toby thing, right?", Emily asked quietly, a trace of pain edging her voice. "I know you're not into girls, Spencer. I used to be your best friend, remember?"

Spencer winced at the baseless allegation, but what hurt her even more was the underlined use of the past tense. It seemed to highlight the fact that they would probably never go back to the way they used to be. Things would never be simple between them. And while that had seemed to be a good thing a few minutes ago, now she was not so sure. And the fact that Emily was reading between the lines and coming up with entirely wrong conclusions infuriated her.

"Right, of course I did. Because I'm Spencer Never-Lets-Go-Of-A-Grudge Hastings, right? I'm glad to know that's what you think of me", Spencer spat, her eyes lighting up with anger. She couldn't believe Emily would think that she would ever willingly hurt her. (But it made sense. She had hurt her in the past, she had _wanted _to hurt her long ago, some wicked little part of her.) "Maybe this is why no one sticks with you long enough. You never give them a chance."

Emily gasped, the last statement taking both of them by surprise. This was too much. She felt the stinging sensation of tears in her eyes and turned away. She could not, would not, let Spencer see her weaken. She'd already allowed her in and look where that had gotten her. The one person she'd allowed inside was clawing through her heart.

Spencer sprang to her feet, and took one step, then another towards Emily's bowed back. She could make out the faint ridges of her spine through the skin of her bent neck, she could pinpoint the slight tremble in her wrists that gave her away. Spencer couldn't believe the toxic words that she had let loose, and now she had no idea how to go about doing damage control. The night was spinning out of control.

"Take me home." Emily's voice was low, and emotionless. She was really proud of herself, proud because she had managed to keep her feelings in check, successfully detained the tremors from slipping into her voice. She wouldn't allow Spencer the satisfaction of seeing her down or weak. "Please", she added, a resigned form of politeness that seemed to mock the intimacy they had shared.

Spencer looked baffled, as if the word 'home' held no meaning for her. As if, she was home already. (What silly notions.)

"It's the last favour I'm asking of you." Emily turned and looked Spencer squarely in the eye, her mouth set in a firm line.

Favours. Please and thank you's. What a sham. What false facades they were suddenly being forced to assume.

Spencer wanted to laugh (without mirth) but instead, she merely nodded her head and walked towards her car, not even looking back to check if Emily was following. She got into the driver's seat and waited for the taller girl to get inside the car. Emily hesitated for a second near the door, then strode past to the back of the car, to Spencer's surprise. She got inside and scooted as close to the car door as possible, looking as if she was ready to bolt any second, as if she was trying to put as much distance between them as the limited confines of the quite-spacious SUV could provide. Her actions made Spencer feel like a freaking pariah, shunned without reason or logic. However, she made no comment, simply started the car and maneuvered the car off the gravelly banks of the lake and onto the silent asphalt of the road.

The journey back to Holbrook was the diametrical opposite of the journey from. Although both were quite similar in terms of the silence that dominated them, it was the quality of the quietness that characterized their dissimilarity. There was none of that peace, understanding or silent support in the air now. The atmosphere was charged with unsaid words, furious subtext and glaringly obvious misunderstandings. What hadn't changed, however, was the fact that Emily could feel Spencer's gaze on her every two minutes. While on the ride from Holbrook, she hadn't really been that aware of it, now, it felt like there was a spotlight on her and she was acutely conscious of every movement she made. She could feel those concerned pools of burnt sienna focused intently on the rear-view mirror, not looking out for invisible cars behind them, but keeping a watch over her. She wanted to be quite irked by it, (she willed herself to get annoyed and perhaps even angrier) but somehow, she felt flattered. She was being quite silly, really. Spencer's eyes also unfortunately seemed to trudge up the still quite fresh memories of their kisses. Even now, thinking about those unhurried but frenzied, cautious but wanton touches made something bright and warm bloom in the pit of her stomach.

Emily tore her mind away (reluctantly) from the slowly replaying images of the night and focused on the guilt that was niggling at some remote part of her. She wanted to feel the force of it more openly, and wondered how exactly Spencer had managed to lull her conscience to sleep. (Those brown eyes were certainly not helping.)

She knew she wasn't a cheater. She didn't know what had made her reciprocate Spencer's kiss. She couldn't forget the fact that she had done exactly what she had been hating Arianna for, what she had herself condemned so vehemently. And she wondered why she had done it. Was it because she had been spurred by Arianna's betrayal? Was that the reason behind her crazy response to Spencer? Had they both been trying to use passion as an instrument for revenge? She didn't know and she wished that this explanation would satisfy her. But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that this path of reasoning wasn't right. Because when she'd been kissing Spencer, she'd forgotten that someone named Arianna even existed.

"Where do you want me to take you?" Spencer's soft and scratchy voice broke into Emily's muddled thoughts, and Spencer couldn't help but slip a smile onto her lips when she noticed the baffled look in reflection of those onyx eyes.

It was strange how despite the limited view she had of Emily—her charcoal rimmed eyes, part of her perfectly-arched eyebrows, the beginning of the slope of her nose—she could still perfectly visualize the play of emotions of her face just by the shifting shades of black in her eyes. She could tell that Emily was busy contemplating a response from that faint little crease between her eyebrows, could accurately guess that her lips were drawn in a thin line just by noting the tightness around her eyes.

"What do you mean?", was Emily's delayed response.

"I mean...you're obviously not going back to..._that _place. Right?", Spencer asked, taking her eyes off the rear-view mirror and focusing on the road for a moment.

"By _that _place, do you mean my home?", Emily scoffed, surprise in her voice. She was taken aback by Spencer's assumption that Emily wouldn't go back to Arianna's house. She hadn't even thought about it herself when she'd left, the only thought in her mind then being Spencer. She hadn't even thought about anything long-term at all. Besides, where else would she go?

"_Her _house, yes. Are you going back there?"

"Where else would I go?", Emily asked, a touch of irritation in her voice. "All my stuff is there...I live there."

_'You could come to my place', _Spencer almost said. But she stopped herself just in time. She'd already erased their boundaries before and look where that had gotten them.

"Fine." A curt and abrupt end to the conversation that had broken what felt like decades of silence between them. Spencer gripped the steering wheel with unnecessary force, her fingernails making half-moon shaped indentations in the expensive leather. She couldn't understand how Emily could bear to go back to the girl who'd broken her heart. Especially after...everything else. But it wasn't her place to dictate what Emily did. She had no right. She shouldn't even care.

So she tried not to and let the whole ride back pass by with nothing but the sound of the occasional car keeping them company.

* * *

The sky was teetering on the edge of dawn, still a dark purple, but with a thin peach horizon heralding the long procession of the morning. A grey BMW pulled up next to a nondescript house and a dark figure got out of the back. Emily Fields paused near the white iron gate that fenced off Arianna's front garden from the sidewalk, filled with indecision. She wanted to turn back and say goodbye. Good morning. Anything. But she didn't trust herself to not break down and do something stupid. Just looking at Spencer's face did strange things to her, and she couldn't afford a meltdown right now, not here, not in front of her house. So she squared her shoulders and opened the gate slowly, and strode off towards the brightly painted front door.

Spencer Hastings was left sitting with a heartbroken expression on her face, watching the retreating back of the taller girl with a mingle of disappointment and relief. At least now, she wouldn't have to keep up the battle of keeping her emotions in check. She could breathe freely, she felt like the atmosphere had lost the electricity it had been carrying. She could almost pretend to be herself again.

Sighing, she turned the car around to the other side of the road and made her way home.

* * *

Spencer turned the bronze door knob slowly, anxiously opening her front door, hoping that it would not creak. She shut the door behind her without the usual resounding thud that she always indulged in and tiptoed across the hall, careful not to step on any of the creaky floorboards that she had memorized (the perks of sneaking out at night with Emily).

All her efforts, however, were in vain. As soon as she reached the foot of the stairs, the light in the hallway flicked on and she found Toby coming out of the living room, an expression of worry and confusion etched into his face. She took in his blood-shot eyes, his messy hair, his gaunt-face —all pointing towards a sleepless night.

Toby almost leaped towards her, enveloping her in a warm hug that threatened to squeeze the life out of here. "Where were you, darling? I was so worried!", he murmured into her hair. He smelled like a mixture of yesterday's clothes, the steak they'd had for dinner last night and Kiehl's shaving cream, and the scent made Spencer nauseous. She stepped back hurriedly, willing herself not to bound up the stairs to put as much distance between them as possible. "Where were you?", Toby asked, not noticing the change of emotions on Spencer's face.

"I...eh...", Spencer muttered, shifting from foot to foot, her mind working in overdrive. The lack of sleep was catching up with her, and her thoughts felt sluggish. It felt like Emily had been her battery, her power source; as long as she'd been with Emily, she'd felt charged and restless. Now, without her, she felt lethargic and completely drained of energy. It was all she could do to not collapse on the spot immediately. She couldn't even concoct a lie properly, so she resorted to her back up plan—the truth. "I was with Emily."

Toby quirked an eyebrow, the confusion melting away from his sharp features and being replaced by something unreadable. "Oh", was all he said, before he bit his lip. The strange lack of surprise woke Spencer up, who felt her heartbeat being replaced by something that echoed the periodic beat of a hammer. "Is that where you've been the other nights too?", he asked with an air of nonchalance, a strange smile tugging at his lips.

Spencer felt her legs weakening and she grabbed onto a nearby shelf for support, feeling it sag under her weight. "What?", was all she could muster, feeling shock settle into her limbs. How did he know? Had he been following her? How much did he know? Why hadn't he said anything? What the hell was going on?

Toby shrugged casually, as if this meant nothing. That had to be a good sign, right? "Spencer, did you really think I wouldn't notice you disappearing in the middle of the night, every night? I'm a heavy sleeper, but I'm not stupid."

Spencer took a deep breath to calm herself. "Oh..why didn't you say something?"

Toby lowered his gaze, keeping quiet for a long, agonizing moment. Then he lifted his baby-blue eyes and smiled at her again. "I figured you had a good enough excuse for sneaking away like that. I thought that perhaps if you wanted to explain things to me, you would." There was a faint trace of hurt underlying his words, something that Spencer wouldn't have picked up on if she hadn't been so alert. "But now I know it's Emily...and it confuses me, a little."

"It's not", Spencer quickly cut in, a defensive tone to her voice, her words a little too loud. "Emily wanted to talk last night, but that's all. I took her for a drive 'cause I figured we'd start fighting and I didn't want to wake you up. I was right. We did fight and I'm sorry but I don't think we're going to go back to being friends like you want us to. The other nights wasn't her at all."

Lies, lies, lies. The lies were coming so easily to her now that she was fully conscious of her words.

Toby frowned, the confusion returning to his face. "Then what?", he demanded.

"I was...working. On something."

That excuse clearly didn't work on him, as he still looked dissatisfied with her response. He waited for her to go on, so she did.

"I was thinking of switching careers. I don't know. I'm tired of being a divorce lawyer. It's kind of monotonous. So I've been going up and reading and researching and...stuff", Spencer said, surprising even herself. Where was this coming from? She did dislike her job but she took it as a part of life. An easy way to earn money to support her lavish lifestyle. A plan to keep her parents moderately satisfied. Something to do to pas her time. Nothing serious, nothing she was passionate about. But she surely hadn't been thinking about a career change. Well, until now.

Toby took in her words, the creases on his forehead deepening as he slowly understood their meaning. "When were you going to tell me about this?", he asked quietly after a pause. A muscle twitched in his jaw and Spencer took it as a sign of disappointment.

"I..I wanted to be sure before I told you. I just...I'm so confused, Toby", Spencer groaned, letting her head fall between her hands.

There were real emotions backing her statement. She was really so confused, but it wasn't her career that was taking the lead in her thoughts. It was a certain dark-eyed beauty that was making her lose her mind. She felt warm, strong arms around her and Toby's soft murmured words at her ear, words meant to comfort, words meant to ease her mind. A strong sense of guilt twisted her gut, and she almost pushed him away, almost confessed everything that had happened. She wanted to tell him that those weren't the arms she wanted around her and she had no idea why. She had no idea when she'd started wanting what she wanted and whether she actually wanted what she thought she wanted. She didn't remember the last time she'd been this confused, this lost. She wanted to tell him that maybe she was becoming someone who was a stranger to him and her. But she didn't say a word and allowed him to lead her upstairs and put her to bed.

* * *

Emily Fields wasn't as careful as Spencer Hastings when it came to closing doors. She just let it close with a muffled bang and leaned against it, sighing for what felt like the millionth time. The house felt quiet and empty, like it hadn't been lived in for years, despite all the trappings of a normal life littered around. After taking a few minutes to pull herself together, Emily trudged upstairs, navigating her way without switching on a light. It was getting lighter anyways, and the dark, shapeless objects were beginning to get definition, albeit in a very black and white way.

When Emily reached her bedroom door, she paused in front of it, sudden hesitation making her freeze in place. Should she go in at all? Or should she go for the guest room? But she really needed to get out of the ruined dress that she was wearing and all her clothes were in the closet. Going inside meant facing Arianna though, and she had no idea if she'd come out of that one alive.

Now wasn't the time to be weak. She'd made a promise to herself to be stronger. She could do anything she put her mind to. Or at least, the new Emily could. Or so she hoped. Steeling herself, she twisted the door knob and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted her looked straight out of a war painting.

The black silk bed sheets were twisted and almost hanging off the bed, revealing the pale mattress cover underneath. There were clothes strewn all across the room, and drawers had been pulled out of the bureau without any apparent reason. The normally alphabetized bookshelf was now missing most of its contents, and all of Arianna's paperbacks and hardbacks had seemingly leaped to their deaths on the floor.

In the middle of all this mess, sat a hunched over figure that stirred when Emily entered the room. Arianna raised her opaque eyes to Emily, her face wrinkled and tear-stained.

"Em. You're back." Her voice wasn't the low, quiet drawl that Emily was used to. It was trembling and high. An uncertain smile twisted her lips into a grimace as she tried to get up, then decided against it. "I...I thought...I thought you'd left. For ever."

Emily pressed her lips into a thin line. Guilt twisted her gut as she surveyed the train-wreck of her girlfriend in front of her. It was obvious that Arianna was truly repentant over what she had done. And how had Emily repaid her? By going and kissing someone else. Emily anxiously pushed the thought out of her head, worried that it would somehow seep into her expression and cry out her misdeed for all the world to know.

"Does this mean you've forgiven me?", Arianna asked with a voice full of hope. She rubbed at her teary eyes, biting her quivering lip.

Emily frowned, resisting the urge to turn around and walk out of the room. Every time she thought of Arianna with someone else, she felt bile rise at the back of her throat. No, she hadn't forgiven her. Arianna had hurt her without reason, hurt her when Emily had done all but hand her Emily's entire world on a silver platter. But she'd done something horrible too. And she couldn't act like a hypocrite now. She really couldn't.

"I..I don't know."

It was the truth. Emily didn't know whether she had it in her to forgive Arianna. She didn't know if she could live with the fact that her girlfriend had gone behind her back and cheated on her with her old college roommate. Of all the people in the world! It still completely baffled her, thinking about how Arianna and Danielle had known each other from before, how Dani was, in fact, Ari's ex. It was something that she couldn't wrap her mind around, and the fact that her old friend had been instrumental in her girlfriend's betrayal just added salt to the wound.

"That's okay", Arianna quietly mumbled, finally pushing herself off the floor and approaching Emily. "I deserve worse, actually. I don't deserve you, I know." She sniffled, and paused a few feet away from her girlfriend. "I am so sorry. You are the most perfect girl I've ever met and you didn't deserve what I did. I just..."

"You what? You thought you could get away with it?", Emily snapped, feeling the wound being pulled open by Arianna's words.

_Use your ammo now, _some part of her mind shouted at her. It prodded at her to confess what had happened with Spencer. Arianna hated Spencer, and if Emily revealed what had happened last night, it would surely hurt Arianna almost as much as Emily had herself been hurt. But doing that didn't feel right and Emily pushed the truth deep within herself and let its serrated edges sink their teeth into her.

"I didn't want to get away with it. It's just that Dani and I..", Arianna paused, pinching the bridge of her nose, looking tortured, "..Dani and I had a lot of..._history_. We had unfinished stuff to deal with. She left me, you know, without saying goodbye or anything and it was the first time...well, the second time we'd met and it was all too much. We'd never...you know. I just wanted to know what it would feel like."

The words hovered awkwardly in the air between them, cluttering the room, making it hard for Emily to breathe. "So you didn't even spare me a second thought?", she demanded of the taller girl, watched the smile crumble from her face.

"I did. That's why I stopped. You jumped into my mind almost as soon as I kissed her and I admit, it was so hard, so hard to push her away because I'd never...because it was something I'd wanted for all of my life before I met you, but I did and I did it because I love you, Emily."

There was a raw honesty in Arianna's voice, but she looked as if she was resigned to her fate, as if she'd just heard her death sentence. "But I did leave you back then without an explanation, and I'm sorry for that. And I did linger around her house, and I shouldn't have. I already had the most beautiful girlfriend in the world, but I guess my past caught up with me."

Emily bowed her head, feelings tears making a comeback. This was all too much to take in. The unmistakable apologetic tone in Arianna's voice was just making her guilt more potent and she was afraid that all it would take would be another word to make her spill. But Arianna, thankfully, kept quiet and wandered to the corner of the room to curl up in a ball.

"I don't understand, Ari..", Emily murmured without lifting her head, after a few minutes, after the tears had disappeared.

"It's okay. I don't expect you to."

And that was that. They both stayed frozen in their respective places while the sun made its gradual ascent to the pinnacle of the sky, slowly bringing back the colour and light into their lives.

* * *

**A/N: **_Keep reading and reviewing, folks! _

**LaughLoveLiveXx:** _You always get the essence of the chapters! Well done. I really love mentioning the lake because as of now, it's become sort of a symbol for Spencer and Emily, kind of where they have their memorable nights, somewhere they can be themselves without the pressures of adjusting to society.  
I actually was a little hesitant about writing the skinny dipping part, but I thought it would be nice to include a part where the girls actually shed their inhibitions around each other before they became...well, more intimate. (Oh, and Hanna and Aria? Don't worry, they're not gone. I was actually gonna bring them in earlier, but I didn't wanna have too much going on. Perhaps later?)  
I'm glad you liked the kissing scene. I actually needed it to be hot, more like a passionate, they really can't control themselves kinda thing.  
Thank you so much for your review! :)_

**Shayforever:** _Thank you so much! Yes, Spemily is totally meant to be, and I feel sorry for Tobs too. _

**spinoza-off:** _Whoa. Thanks a lot for that compliment. :) I'm glad you enjoy the story so much.  
You're completely right. The water thing does highlight the key difference between Arianna and Spencer. While Arianna is very...love-obsessed, shall we say, Spencer has this innate need to make sure Emily's okay with whatever they're doing, and always making sure that Emily's happy and getting what she needs.  
Okay, I love how you picked up on the cheating aspect of the whole thing. This story is called 'The Scarlet Letter' for a reason. Their struggle with the whole cheating/infidelity is what's going to basically constitute the main plot of the fic.  
And you're right, Emily is a little more out of tune with her own feelings, because she's always trying to be the nice one, the perfect girlfriend, while Spencer basically goes for what she wants. And she's also the one who actually has a valid reason to be straying from her once-perfect relationship, which is why it makes her own motives even more muddled._

**Guest**_: Hahaha! 'You are Jesus' That's something I've never had before. Best anon ever. ;D_

**go-sullivan:** _Thanks a lot. I think we're all perverts when it comes to Spemily. ;)_

_Guest: Thank you so much! I know exactly what you mean by the whole OTP finally makes out thingy. xD I get that feeling a lot too!_

**LittleLiarLovesEmily: **_Thank you so much and I'm glad you think so. :) I'm really happy you could see the passion in their kisses, coz I was really aiming for that. _

**JustforKicks403: **_Thank you for the support. _

_Guest: I wish (don't we all?) that they could elope forever, haha. _

**prentiss-be-mine:** _Thank you! I'm glad you're finding it plausible! That's something I really was uncertain about!_

**x-sugarfree-x:** _You're right! It's just begun and you're in for a ride. (; _


	12. Marionettes

**Chapter 12 - Marionettes **

A few weeks later, Spencer Hastings was making her way back home from a job she had recently confessed to hating. She had just gotten into Holbrook, and the sun had already dipped low, kissing the horizon while it bled all over the lilac sky. The radio was on a sports station, and the muffled commentary of a football game was providing the background music to her distracted thoughts when her phone started ringing. It was automatically received and connected to the car's bluetooth system, and the commentator was cut mid-speech, the sound of whistles and applause being replaced by a smooth, familiar baritone.

"Spenceeeerr", Toby drawled into the phone. Spencer rolled her eyes at this. It was something Toby did every time he called, making sure to draw out the syllables in her name in this ridiculous way. "I miss youuuu."

"I'm almost home", Spencer replied, turning the car down the main road of Holbrook. She passed the Protestant Church by the town square which was reportedly about a hundred and sixty years old, and the twisted spire that was some sort of the symbol for their town, although what exactly it symbolized, nobody knew.

"Please tell me you're not on our street yet", Toby's mechanical voice filled the car, almost making it seem like he was right next to her.

"Wait. Usually you keep the word 'not' out of the sentence. Why are you so anxious for me to not come home? Are you trying to hide something?", Spencer laughed, maneuvering through another turn on a road that led straight to her street from the town center. She was about ten minutes away from home, and she wasn't really hurrying. It wasn't as if home was going anywhere. It wasn't as if she didn't see Toby every single day, without fail.

"No! I just...we're out of eggs and I need you to go get me some. I was thinking you could pick some up for me. Oh and some fennel and thyme too. Oh, and tomatoes. You know what, I'll text you the grocery list." Toby sounded a little distracted. Usually he did the shopping as Spencer hated waiting at the usually long lines at the shopping counters. But Spencer was trying extra hard to be a great fiancee, and since the store wasn't exactly out of her way, she thought she'd might as well get the job done..

"Fine, I'll get it. You owe me big time, Mr. Cavanaugh", she replied with a mock-dramatic sigh.

"I promise I'll make it up to you." Toby's voice brimmed with hidden meanings and possibilities, his feeble attempt at being irresistible. Spencer rolled her eyes again, fighting the urge to gag, glad that phones didn't simultaneously transmit her facial expressions. It wasn't as if she didn't want Toby in the same way he wanted her. She loved him. She did. Really. She had a ring on her finger to prove it (a constant reminder of how tied she was, how wrong she was not to crazily love the man who crazily loved her).

"I'm getting off the phone now, Romeo. See ya." No sign of affection ever showed in her goodbyes, and she preferred to keep in that way.

Spencer changed the destination address on her GPS to the closest Fresh Fields (which was about 0.8 miles away) and followed the electronic voice that told her where to go.

* * *

At that exact time, Emily Fields was strolling past the doors of the supermarket, lethargically pushing a shopping cart. The weeks had merged into one blurry jumble, each day more monotonous than the last, and she had jumped at the chance of getting out of the house that had been closing in around her like a prison.

She knew she was being a little too harsh in her comparisons, but she couldn't really help herself. After spending nights and early mornings under starry skies next to those familiar angular shoulders, the mundane comfort of a shared bed and a pillow had really lost its charm. Emily knew that she shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, feeling these emotions, but her brain was unshackled in these little moments; these moments when she was away from Arianna's scrutiny, her doubt and incessant gestures of appeasement. They had called sort of a truce between them. Things were still a little awkward, a little broken and cracked around the edges. But a phone call from Dani had managed to put things into perspective for Emily. Danielle had apparently been calling to check up on Emily, wondering if and when she could visit. It had seemed as if Arianna hadn't told her that the news had been broken, that the cat was out of the bag, so Emily had indulged in a few moments of vicious pleasure, and had slammed the phone without even a word of greeting.

Obviously, Danielle had called back, and had kept calling until Emily had been forced to answer the call, anything to stop the shrill bleating of their landline. The words she had said had soothed and calmed and provided a balm for Emily's bruised feelings, that was for sure. She'd just confirmed everything Arianna had confessed, but embellished her side of the story with an even deeper insight into the degree of Arianna's refusal and their shared past. The more Emily had listened, the more she had understood. And the easier it had been for her to finally agree to forgive her girlfriend. And the harder it had become for her to keep the truth about her own moment of weakness to herself.

The fact that her partner in crime, the agent-provocateur herself, Spencer Hastings, lived practically next door to her was something that one could only describe as a cruel (but exhilarating) twist of fate. Emily had already resolved to herself that she would keep out of the brunette's way and had therefore ignored all of Spencer's texts and calls, which had steadily dwindled and stopped one day. Some small part of Emily had been disappointed that Spencer had given up so easily, but the rest of her was relieved. It was hard enough resisting the urge to reply to Spencer's eloquent text messages (full of proper grammar and punctuation, eerily mirroring Arianna's) or her short, yet pleading voice-mails that she kept listening to on repeat. It was even worse when they actually met in person. It didn't happen too often, because Emily had made it her mission to never pause anywhere unless it was absolutely important, to never go out for a jog or a walk without Arianna, to stay at the pool till late, training the swim team like a dictator (something which took _a lot _of effort). But life wasn't exactly scripted, and over the past few weeks, she had come across Spencer two or three times, mostly while taking out the garbage or picking up newspapers in the morning. (She almost felt like a fugitive in her own house, cooped up during weekends.)

Those brief looks they had exchanged had somehow felt more real to Emily than anything else, more tangible that all the useless clutter that her life consisted of. Something about those vivid umber eyes stuck with her for the rest of the day, impossible to forget. They had seemed to electrify her for the long, achingly drawn moments they had rested on her, and she could swear that the aftershocks of Spencer's gazes seemed to make her tremble even hours after their occurrence.

The only plus point was that Arianna was giving her the space she needed. Arianna was, in fact, going out of her way to make sure every whim of Emily's was satisfied (although she didn't really have that many). It was something very uncharacteristic, as Emily had always pegged her girlfriend as someone who couldn't help but get wrapped up in herself way too often to pay attention to anyone else, even Emily. But she was taking this welcome change gratefully, as it meant Arianna had stopped questioning her every move, had stopped suspecting her illogical urge to stay home every weekend, work late hours and avoid going out on the street at all times.

The result was that Emily had grown tired of staring at the same four walls that had begun as her hiding place and ended up being more like a cage. Without Arianna lurking around and looking at her with those broken, hopeful eyes, Emily could breathe more easily, could feel that familiar weight of guilt stirring from her chest and lifting slightly. It was good to move around and hear the disjointed cacophony of human sounds surrounding her, and her mind flitted from one overheard conversation to the next, her ears grasping at the disappearing tails of words as they turned around the corners of the aisles.

She had almost forgotten that she was here armed with an excuse—she had charged herself with replenishing their diminishing food supply. Her inability (or more accurately, her reluctance) to go out had resulted in an almost empty fridge. She had a mental list of what she needed but she found she was in the entirely wrong section—the frozen foods one. Shaking her head and chiding herself for her absent-mindedness, Emily pushed the shopping trolley down the aisle, her feet automatically heading for the the vegetable section. However, she didn't make it far before she saw something that made her feel like she needed a good few hours of defrosting herself. The woman who had been dominating her thoughts was standing at the end of the aisle, contemplating a large tub of ice cream, squinting to read the fine print near the bottom.

Emily's first reaction was to unfreeze herself, turn around quietly and take the longer path to the vegetable section. She slowly started backing away, not able to tear her eyes away from Spencer, who seemed quite oblivious to Emily's presence. Big mistake. She knocked into a store employee holding a crate of milk cartons, sending several ones flying to the floor. So much for staging a quick escape. She mumbled her apologies, blushing furiously as she helped the hapless teenager gather the strewn cartons, and sighed when she watched him walk away. She looked once more at the spot Spencer had been in, and let out a sharp exhalation of surprise. Spencer was nowhere in sight.

"Miss me?"

Emily jumped, whirling around too quickly, feeling completely disorientated once she stopped.

Spencer was standing behind her, with a ghost of her trademark smirk perched on her thin lips. "I thought so."

Emily opened her mouth to speak, but then found herself lost for words. Her mind was still spinning from moving too fast (and from suddenly finding herself too close to Spencer). She was sure if it hadn't been for the cold air slowly drifting from the food shelves, she would have found herself in a semi-molten state.

The silence somehow pushed them closer, so close that Emily could see Spencer's irregular breaths condensing in the coolness that surrounded them.

"I...eh. You shop?"

Way to go, Fields.

But it had been the first thought to jump into her head. Spencer wasn't someone she'd seen as the grocery shopping kind. She'd figured it was more or less Toby's duty. Sure, she could see Spencer paying the bills and filing them in huge, dated folders and entering them in some sort of cash-flow account to make sure she knew every single detail about her expenses, but she really hadn't ever visualized coming across Spencer doing something so...mundane.

"Eloquence, thy name is Fields." Spencer's tone was light and friendly, but her eyes refused to let go of that fiery intensity that was burning a hole into Emily's clumsy defenses. "I was just picking up some stuff", she waved the list on the illuminated screen of her Blackberry in front of Emily. "But I'll have to admit that usually, I don't shop. At least for groceries. Toby does that."

Aha. So she had been right about that one.

They were exchanging pleasantries like they hadn't been shutting each other out for weeks now, like they didn't have all of this _impossibly _complicated history—a history that was now seeping into their present, the now.

"Oh." Emily clenched and unclenched her hands around the handle of the trolley, unable to meet the gaze that was currently searing into her. There was that feeling again, that feeling that she associated only with Spencer. That feeling that the world had suddenly melted away and someone had stupidly placed Emily on a stage of some sort, available for Spencer's eternal and quite acute contemplation. It made her feel like she was standing too close to a blazing fire, as if she'd been singled out in a room, as if suddenly the world was looking up at her with unconcealed adulation.

It was enough to make a girl lose her head.

It felt like Spencer was expecting something more, and when Emily finally, after a long wait, looked up to meet tawny eyes, she felt that shift in the air again. The same shift that had shaken her world before Spencer had given her that mini-speech near that lake all those days ago, before that pure, divine kiss.

"Emily."

A single word. Her name. But the way Spencer breathed it out, so naturally, like she said it every day, every hour, every second, made goosebumps rise on Emily's arms. It felt like Spencer was trying to condense all the meanings in the world into that single word, as if given a choice between all the impressive words at her disposal, she would always choose this one to convey that one thing that was joining them right now.

However, a kid laughed somewhere from another aisle and the spell was broken. Emily was finally free from Spencer's pull, her gravity, her terrible magician's eyes.

"I have to go. I haven't even gotten most of the things I was supposed to get", Emily mumbled, throwing her weight at the trolley and trying to run away before things got messier, before the guilt ate away at her. She didn't know why she was feeling what she was feeling, and how Spencer managed to find all the right words, and all the right silences and looks that made her soul shiver. She shouldn't be thinking about her ex-best friend like that, she shouldn't be thinking about _anyone _like that, but she couldn't be blamed, especially when Spencer was just standing there, looking really aloof and as ice-cold in her grey peacoat as the frozen items behind her.

"Stop. Emily. Look at me." A single push, no, shove, from the former athlete was enough to send the almost-empty shopping cart waltzing down the aisle. Those clinical, pale hands moved to tanned wrists, and held tight enough to leave marks. "Emily. _Look _at _me_!" Spencer's tone was soft, a hushed whisper, but it held so much force that Emily mutely obeyed, suddenly nothing more than an inanimate puppet. Spencer was her master puppeteer, the one who breathed life into her, with her magic touches, her calculating pressure on Emily's thrumming pulse-point.

_God_, it was too much.

It was too much for both of them, Emily noted with a twist of pleasure in her chest. She looked into Spencer's eyes, a quite easy task, given how close their heights were, and felt the ground slowly disappear under her feet in that wonderful way that it used to when she'd just dived before a swim.

"Do you know how much I've missed you? I bet you don't." Spencer was still speaking in those soft whispers, as if someone might overhear them.

Someone actually might. The thought, however, did not manage to inspire the amount of dread in Emily that it would've under normal circumstances. She kept still (or at least, tried to) under Spencer's unyeilding hold on her hands, kept quiet and let the brunette speak because Spencer's words were having a delicious effect on her.

"Here you are, ignoring me as I speak, and I'm just trying to—", Spencer paused, tongue darting out to wet suddenly dry lips, before continuing, "—trying to...apologize. For what happened."

Emily moved, no longer an inanimate wooden doll, spurred to action by her puppeteer. She frowned and twisted away from Spencer's touch, till her back met the cold metal of the shelves lining the aisle. Was Spencer talking about the kiss? Their grand mistake?

"We'll forget it ever happened." Emily's reaction was quick, her tone clipped, her words curt and direct, so unlike her. She was trying to be who she was not, and everything about her except her words gave her away. Her eyes were pleading at Spencer silently, pleading at her not to come closer, daring her to take a step forward, wishing, craving for the kind of closeness they had developed, nurtured, allowed to blossom.

"Define _it_." Spencer was unnecessarily trailing her hand over the edge of the shelf near Emily's head, feeling the frozen metal, the plastic against her sensitive fingertips, her knuckles almost grazing the base of Emily's neck.

"You know what I'm talking about, Spencer." Emily fought against the urge to inch closer towards Spencer's distracted hand movements, and lost the bloody battle. A sharp intake of breath later, Spencer's hand was making a show of tracing absently over the underside of the shelf, while in reality, her thumb was bumping up against burnished bronze skin half hidden by raven curls. It sure wasn't helping to clear up the thought process of any of the girls, but at that moment, neither of them minded.

Spencer's eyes did a quick scan of the aisle. All clear. She smiled, knowing that she was winning, and loving every single victorious moment of it. She leaned forward, making Emily press further back against the shelf, hearing the rustle of plastic-packaged foodstuff behind her. "No, I don't. What are you talking about, Emily?" Spencer was enjoying watching Emily squirm a little too much.

"Stop. Stop doing that." Emily wasn't even speaking anymore. Her words were more like little tortured, high-pitched breaths that sounded really low at the same time. "Please", she added for good measure, biting her lip when she felt Spencer's knuckles _accidentally _brush up against the shell of her ear.

"What do you want to forget, Em?", Spencer tauntingly whispered, feeling reckless. It wasn't even night (yet) and they weren't far from Holbrook. In fact, the sun had barely set, and they were in the middle of a supermarket, and gratefully, in one of the aisles that wasn't frequented very much. Spencer silently thanked whatever scientific research had deemed preservative-laced frozen foods unhealthy. It was surely keeping the people of Holbrook away.

"You." Emily returned Spencer's gaze with defiance written all over her face, a last, desperate attempt at being strong. For some reason, it served to fuel Spencer's sudden insanity, it made something inside her burst free and she found herself slipping even closer to Emily, locks of midnight black caressing the side of her cheek. Her nose picked up the faint, lingering scent of juniper that Emily was cloaked in, probably from the shampoo she had used, and the subtle tones of cinnamon that brought back vivid memories of their first kiss.

"Do you _really?_", Spencer whispered, tripping over her own feet on purpose and placing her other hand on Emily's shoulder for support, her lips now dangling next to Emily's half-hidden ear. "Because I can't forget. I don't _want _to forget."

Emily gasped, stiffening visibly at Spencer's bold words, words that made all the blood in her body rush to her head. She felt dizzy and confused. What was Spencer saying? Did this mean...?

"You love riddles." There was a trace of bitterness in Emily's voice, but it trembled under the weight of Spencer's proximity, and made her sound like she was paying a compliment. "You love confusing me, don't you?"

"I could say the same." Suddenly, all the playful mischief was gone from Spencer's voice. It had dropped an octave and was nothing more than a scratchy, throaty sound insanely close to Emily's ear. "You are like one of those equations I can't balance. You.."

Emily's breath hitched despite her frantic efforts to control herself, in spite of the faint calls of her conscience. She could not believe the conversation they were having, much less where they were having it. Anyone could walk right up to them and then what? What would they think? That they were just two friends whispering secrets to each other? Perhaps. Maybe they could hide under the subterfuge of friendship. For now. Because, scarily, she found herself not caring if she was found anyways. Even if it was by Arianna. Or poor, sweet Toby.

"I..?", Emily willed Spencer to go on, suddenly breathless with anticipation. She wanted to know where the brunette's thoughts led. She wanted to know how she would phrase it. She wanted to know if what she wanted was what Spencer wanted too. (Something so wrong and so messed up and so inexplicably exquisite.)

"You are driving me insane, Em. And the more you ignore me, the worse it gets." Now the forefinger and the middle finger joined the thumb in their conquest of sensitive skin, tracing the outline of Emily's earlobe with feather-touches, barely-there touches, brief touches that could be passed off as a figment of Emily's imagination. Her other hand increased the pressure on Emily's shoulder for an ephemeral moment, then seemingly slipped from its support. It traced a slow, deliberate path down her arm, leaving evidence of its passage in the form of goosebumps. It felt like tendrils of fire licking at her, contrasting with the burning cold at the small of her back. "Oh and just so we're clear...I wasn't apologizing for kissing you."

There. It was out now. There was no going back.

The worst thing was, Spencer didn't even sound apologetic. Or ashamed of it. She had stated it like she was merely repeating a well-known fact. A widely accepted axiom.

"Stop."

Spencer's fingers stilled, and Emily instinctively leaned further into her burning touch, then shrank back, ashamed of her inability to hide her desperation. Just when she thought Spencer was going to walk away, those little fire-touches started again, now creeping down her neck, whispering against her hair, disappearing to a hidden spot near the nape of her neck.

"Make me." There was a challenge in Spencer's eyes, and an unmistakable excitement in her voice. Emily was being bathed in the Hastings look, the look that said : _I have seen you and I shall conquer you_. Emily didn't know if she could continue her half-hearted attempts at refusal, if she could keep denying what she herself wanted so bad.

"You're making things so complicated, Spence."

The nickname slipped out before she could stop herself, and they were back again in that comfortable niche they had created for themselves, where somehow, every bad thing that happened between them seemed to pale in front of the enormity of the sensations they created in each other.

"They were never simple to begin with, Emily", Spencer countered, her lips still swaying dangerously close to Emily's ear. She breathed in deeply, allowing herself to indulge in the pure intoxication that was Emily Fields.

"Maybe we are better when we're far away from each other."

Spencer let out a dry laugh, rolling her eyes even though she knew Emily couldn't see the disbelief written all over her face.

"Then why are we here?"

Good question. They were at a stalemate. Emily couldn't push Spencer away, couldn't back away from her touch (she was caught between a metaphorical rock disguised as Spencer and a hard place). And Spencer was refusing to listen to any kind of logic whatsoever.

"Because we're supposed to be shopping."

The statement came too late, and sounded too hollow. And almost comical. What was shopping? Who even cared about eggs or tomatoes? Worlds were coming to hasty ends because of the unbelievable tension between them, and Spencer couldn't believe Emily was _seriously _using that excuse.

"Supposed to be. But we're not. Emily—"

"Spencer!"

"—you have got to stop jumping every time I say your name", Spencer murmured, pulling away a little so that Emily could see the smirk twisting those razor-sharp lips.

"I'm not jumping!", Emily denied vehemently, colour flooding to her cheeks. "I, you, eh, you're too close. I really appreciate my personal space."

Spencer's lips quirked up with even more amusement, and she quietly removed her hands from the back of Emily's neck, and from her waist. "Seems like I really appreciate your personal space too."

Emily had to smile a little bit at that, and the effect it had on Spencer was worth watching. It seemed that the subtle glint in Spencer's eyes grew with the upward curl of Emily's lips, until they seemed to be holding glittering diamonds. It made Emily smile even more, made her want to break into a little jig, but she controlled herself, checked her pleasure, did not let it reach its peak.

She had to be the grown up one since Spencer had decided being a child was way more fun.

(It wasn't fair, this role-reversal.)

"I really...really have to go. Arianna's waiting at home for me."

Completely the wrong choice of words. She watched the elation on Spencer's face deflate faster than a pricked balloon, watched the diamonds grow smaller till they disappeared entirely into eyes the colour of charred wood. She sensed, before she saw, the shift in the atmosphere around them, the sudden expansion in the column of artificially cold air between them, felt the unbearable distance increase almost tangibly.

"Of course. Arianna." Somehow, Spencer managed to condense all the bitterness of her black coffee hued eyes in that one name; that one shadow of a doubt that lingered between them. The smile had wilted and faded on her lips, and that seemingly permanent crease on her brow that had been erased momentarily made a prominent comeback. "I don't even know how you forgave her."

"Spencer." Emily's voice was a warning, and already, the world was coming back into focus. She could feel the biting cold of the shelves pressing against her back, the chill seeping through the flimsy fabric of her tank-top that looked glaringly casual in front of Spencer's designer suit. "You don't...know her."

"I don't want to", Spencer hissed through gritted teeth, now all fire again, in a different way. Again, she was leaning in, too close, her face closing in on Emily's. "But I know you. And I know that you shouldn't have gone back to her."

Emily winced, and felt herself cleaved into two because of the contrasting feelings inside her. Part of her (a shockingly minuscule part), wanted to defend her girlfriend, wanted to clear Arianna's name, wanted to clear Spencer's doubts. But the other, devious, horrid part of her strangled her reason and silenced her tongue. She didn't want to agree with Spencer's words, but she found herself nodding without her consent, her actions controlled by invisible strings.

"I did something just as horrible to her."

That put the fire out in Spencer's eyes. Her rage was wiped clear, and she stared at Emily with her mouth slightly parted, her eyes wide and surprised. Perhaps what she had done, what she'd been trying to do again had just dawned on her, and she looked as if she'd been sleepwalking and someone had suddenly woken her up.

"Oh."

"No, Spence—", Emily began, trying to undo the damage already done.

"Alright, no. I get it." Spencer started backing away, her expression closed off, her eyes resembling opaque stones. Unreadable, unapproachable. Flooded with guilt and something else, something more potent and destructive.

"Spencer!"

"What?"

Emily sighed, grabbing Spencer's hand in her desperation to make the brunette stay. She had no idea why she was so afraid of Spencer leaving, when she'd been wishing for exactly this. Spencer jumped up when tan fingers curled around her skinny, delicate wrists, looking as if she'd just been electrocuted. They were falling again, and there was icy plastic against Emily's back again (the fabric there was almost wet now from condensed air), and Spencer was too close, the tips of their noses grazing against each other, breathing each other's breath.

"What's worse is that I'm not sorry too."

The uncharacteristic revelation from Emily made Spencer's rock-eyes, frozen-coffee eyes melt into pools of chocolate, made her entire being melt until she was boneless in Emily's gentle grip. She knew it would've cost Emily a lot to admit this, that for some reason, Emily was having an even harder time accepting this than she was, although she didn't know what _this_ was. She didn't know if she liked girls or wanted to like girls or even noticed them in _that _way which was _totally _different from admitting that a girl was attractive and hot and that you really wished that you had curves like that. It was wishing you could _see _the curves that clothes merely hinted at (something that she did a lot around Emily), it was not wanting to be like a girl, but wanting the girl instead.

All Spencer knew that she noticed, hell, she noticed _only _how amazingly perfect everything about Emily was and she had no idea when she'd come to that conclusion but it was something that she _believed_ in even more than she believed in evolution and the Big Bang Theory and that was saying something. _  
_

"Then can we please be unapologetic together?", Spencer appealed quietly, silent fire now, slow-burning in Emily's presence. Her cockiness was slowly returning, and Emily's eyes had dug their hooks inside her chest, pulling her closer to the point of no-return.

"I don't think I can do that." Emily looked away, breaking the silent promises that their eyes had been making to each other, breaking their contact, breaking the bonds they had been forming and strengthening. "I wouldn't want you to...Not for me. This doesn't make any sense." All said in a single breath, as if she was rushing to get the words out before they disappeared somewhere within her illogical mind.

"I guess not everything has to make sense." Spencer's fingers moved to Emily's chin, fingertips dancing on the edge of her exquisite jawline before turning her head so that they were conversing in the language of looks once again. She saw hidden messages glittering under coal-black eyes and wanted to decipher them, needed to know what they meant.

"I can't believe _you _are saying that." There was a smile in Emily's voice, although her lips were a little too late to follow. It was almost as if she was too afraid to give herself even a small evidence of happiness and _god_, Spencer wanted to change that. She vowed to change that, even if changing that took everything she had.

"I'm full of surprises." Again, the tip of Spencer's tongue darted out to wet her lips, and something about that simple motion made Emily go weak in the knees, made her lean heavily against the shelves to support her weight. Spencer's body moved with hers, not missing the chance to decrease the distance between them, as if they were part of a chained system.

"Oh, trust me, I know that now", Emily countered (when she had finally regained her voice), her hands tightening around Spencer's wrists, her mouth curving into a small smirk. She noticed the small, almost imperceptible change in Spencer's breathing, the slight widening of her eyes, new creases around her mouth that had nothing to do with the tension that had the Hastings trademark. She also felt the thrill through her veins, a side-effect of the power she had stumbled upon. The power to make Spencer Hastings blush.

"You just can't use my own tricks on me, you know", Spencer murmured, trying to regain the power, not willing to give up the throne, the magic strings, the control bar. Just to drive her point home (and perhaps for other, vaguer reasons), she pulled out of the shackles of Emily's grip and made her fingertips dance across bare shoulders, felt strong swimmer muscles flex involuntarily under her lingering touch. Her eyes moved to rest on Emily's lips, which were slightly parted, those irresistible doors leading to a forbidden destination. She was feeling hypnotized again, like she had under that starry sky, and she realized something. She wasn't the one in control at all. It was all Emily, all the time. Emily was the one with the real power, the power that mattered. The power to make her want to do things, make her lose her head, make the most logical and sensible girl in the world want to break all the rules.

It terrified her. The fact that sweet, pure, little Em made Spencer want to do bad, unnameable deeds to her and the fact that she did so without realizing what she was doing was something that was really difficult for her to comprehend.

But it didn't matter, really. 'Cause comprehending things was really the least of her priorities right now.

The thing that topped her list at this moment in time was the journey her hands were making across Emily's collarbones, frantic touches, covert touches, nobody-will-ever-notice-if-they-walk-past touches. Her eyes scanned the fall and rise of her chest, her fingertips rested fleetingly on the flutter of her heartbeat, and oh why did Emily have to wear such dangerously low necklines that made Spencer feel like a really bad (read:perverted) person because she just couldn't stop staring?

"Who says I'm using your tricks?", Emily asked, sounding breathless and staring at Spencer with shining eyes that seemed to beckon her even closer.

"Because you don't have any of yours."

"That's so—not—true", Emily retorted, punctuating her pauses with small inclinations of her head, until her forehead was resting against Spencer's and it seemed as though if they breathed, they would end up kissing. She had that coy smile on her lips, the one that Spencer loved and hated because it made everything inside her feel like liquid fire. It made her want to kiss and hug the life out of Emily at the same time and she realized that this was even scarier. She could deal with being attracted to her best friend (or at least, try to). But she didn't know how she was going to handle it if it started being...something even _more _dangerous.

The kiss was so tantalizingly close and it was obvious that it was coming and the mere thought sent tingles down Emily's spine and she squirmed with anticipation, needing Spencer to make that first move, that slight movement that would make them connect in the way that made the world shatter and disappear like a flimsily built illusion.

That's when the first few notes of Vivaldi's Summer broke into their painfully still moment, in the form of Spencer's ringtone (the one that she had specially set to signal calls from Toby). They both jumped apart, broken out of their daze. Emily's hip connected with the edge of a shelf and a sharp pain threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She scrunched up her eyes and counted slowly to ten, waiting for the immediate shock of the pain to wear off, before she straightened up. Through slightly blurry eyes, she saw Spencer a few feet away, talking into her Blackberry in hushed tones, wearing a frown that went well with her outfit. Seeing her there, separated by distance, obviously talking to Toby, brought back to Emily why she was actually here. And what she had actually ended up doing.

This was exactly why she had imposed a house arrest on herself. This was why she had stopped any kind of social life she might have started in this small town. Because no matter where she went, Spencer somehow caught up with her, and they ended up...well, like this.

Spencer had been focusing on the ground but now her eyes raised upwards, catching hers. They silently besought her to stay, to wait, focusing their intensity on her like beige spotlights; her lips were merely going through the motions, muttering words that Emily couldn't catch, didn't want to catch. Before Spencer could realize what was happening, Emily had turned and fled, not even stopping to get her shopping cart.

When Spencer finally got off the phone (after assuring Toby that no, she hadn't been kidnapped, and that yes, she was indeed doing the shopping), all that was left of Emily was the faint sillage of juniper and cinnamon that still hung in the air where she had stood, mixing freely with the cold vapors coming off the chilled shelves. Spencer shivered, and turned the opposite way, heading for the exit without getting the things that Toby had asked her to get.

All that remained of their chance encounter was an unfortunate tub of Phish Food that was lying on its side by the ice-cream section of the frozen-food aisle, obviously knocked down by someone in a hurry—its contents spilling over and forming a rapidly melting pool of chocolate and marshmallow.

* * *

**A/N: **_So? Good or bad? Obviously, I don't like easy love stories. ;) Please feel free to leave your comments/criticisms. _

**prentiss-be-mine:** _Yum, coffee and angst! Best combo. I like Emily's strength too, it's so different from Spencer's! It's like an Emily kind of strength, if you know what I mean? Haha. And I did check out your story and I love it! _

**Shayforever:** _Hahaha, I love your point of view. Yes, Emily should just shut up and let Spencer make love to her, but it ain't that easy, is it? xD Sorry about the lack of kissing, I shall make up for it later! (; Thanks. _

**go-sullivan: **_Yay! Glad you think so! Yup, they're gonna have to work for it._

**spinoza-off:** _Thank you, thank you! It's really nice when you point out what you like 'cause then I know what I'm doing right and what not, etc.  
I do hate making them be cruel to each other but it's like the story writes itself and I'm just...idk. xD It's just, I don't know, given how different Spencer and Emily are, I think they do and should find it difficult to understand each other's thought process, but they also somehow just...get each other, because they know each other that well.  
I do feel horrid for poor Toby coz I just like him so much! But you can't make omelettes without breaking a few eggs, as they say. Arianna too, could now be put in that category. Anybody being cheated on really doesn't deserve it, but hey, what can you do? I think you're probably the only one who feels sorry for Arianna. xD And I'm glad, coz I really didn't want her to be an antagonist as such. _

**tharuka:** _Thank you so much, you're too kind! :) I'm glad I met your expectations and I really do hope I continue to do that! _

**LaughLoveLiveXx:** _Angst is my favourite, so. I'm glad the kiss and the after-effects was believable. I didn't want the kiss to be to fluffy or just merely romantic; it had to contain all of the confusion that I'm sure that Spencer and Emily would feel, because not only is this totally uncharted territory, but it is also something so forbidden. They're not only afraid of losing their significant others, but also everything with each other, by messing up their old friendship by making new bonds.  
__Toby's just awesome, but he might not be so forgiving in the future! xD_

**LittleLiarLovesEmily: **_I'm sorry it saddens you! :( Don't worry, this is a totally Spemily-centric fic, so you will get your fix of the couple. :) Thank you!_

**x-sugarfree-x:** _Ooh, you may be onto something there! (; Spencer's always been a good liar, so it sure helps! _

Guest: _I guess Ari is the girl everyone loves to hate! xD Toby and Ari are like complete opposites, so yeah, lucky Spencer! _

_Guest: Thank you so much! :) _


	13. Oxygen

**A/N : **_Firstly, I'd like to apologize for the really late update. I had exams, but now that they're over, I'll be updating faster (hopefully)!_

* * *

**Chapter 13 - Oxygen**

The next afternoon, Toby Cavanaugh was standing outside a bright door that stood out in their monotonous neighbourhood, caught in a civil war between his head and his heart. It was common knowledge that his heart was the more dominant of the two and it proved so by winning this skirmish. Without wasting another moment (he had taken the day off for this), he raised his hand and knocked purposefully. The door swung open after a few long moments before Toby could contemplate turning away.

Arianna, his journalist friend and Emily's girlfriend, stood on the other side wearing a confused expression.

"Toby! To what do I owe this pleasure?" Her greeting came a beat too late, as if it had taken her more than a mere moment to place her neighbour's face. As if she had had to search her mind to recognize him, as if they didn't practically see each other every day across the street.

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. I can come back later," Toby smiled apologetically, hoping that she indeed wasn't too busy for the conversation he'd been intending to have for a while.

"No, I'm not particularly busy. Why don't you come in?" She stepped back to let him inside. Toby followed her into the familiar hallway, pausing to wipe his feet on the beige doormat shaped like a paw.

"Is Emily home?" Toby asked, looking around like he was lost as he had all those days ago when he had been invited to that fateful lunch.

"No, she's at work. The swimmers apparently need their coach at all times," Arianna made a face, gesturing at Toby vaguely, perhaps asking him to take a seat. She walked over to the laptop that was perched precariously at the edge of a cluttered shelf, and shut it, stowing it away in a beat-up looking bag.

Toby sat down awkwardly on the couch, grateful that Emily wasn't around. She probably wouldn't appreciate what he was about to talk about.

"Ehm. How is she? Emily, I mean. Settling in well?" Toby asked casually, adding his innocent smile into the mix so that he didn't sound _too nosy_.

Arianna froze in her tracks, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Yeah, of course. Do you have any reason for believing otherwise?" she challenged him, a guarded expression taking over her face. Arianna wondered if Emily had confided in Toby about their recent problems, although it made no sense at all. She felt a sudden burn inside her chest, and the all-too familiar fire of anger already begin to torch their way through her veins. Would Emily be dumb enough to actually go and broadcast their petty fights to neighbours that she didn't even know?

Toby was quick to notice the sudden change in Arianna's demeanour, although he could hardly assign a reason to it. It felt like he had struck a chord that was resonating with Arianna. Had she noticed changes in Emily like he had in Spencer? The way Spencer flinched whenever he touched her, the way they didn't indulge in their post-dinner Scrabble games anymore, the way whenever he asked her to bring in the newspaper or take out the garbage, she'd look at him as if he'd asked her for a blood sacrifice. He was hoping to understand why it was this the girl he loved was behaving like this. He thought he knew the reason. There could be only one logical explanation. Emily.

"No. I don't." Toby's voice sounded weak even to his own years and he watched the defensiveness cloud in on Arianna's dark eyes, remolding her into a stranger. A stranger that he was suddenly feeling frightened of. "It's just that...that afternoon...you know, during the lunch? She was very quiet. I know how it feels like to be new in a place and I was just, you know, hoping that she was fitting in right."

Toby let out a sigh of relief (inaudibly) when he noticed Arianna relax, when that shifting gaze and that fiery burn in her eyes died down a little. His response had seemingly satisfied her. And it should. He was speaking from the heart. He did remember what it was like, being new in a place like Holbrook. Surprisingly, he had fit right in. He was that amiable carpenter guy that people just found themselves making small talk to, and then inviting over for dinner or lunch. It was a pleasant change from the way he had been treated in Rosewood. The proverbial black cat. Spencer, however, had dealt with being new to a place in an entirely different manner. She'd made little to no friends, unless you counted the librarian and that funny author guy who had ventured out of his house only twice in a year (and on one of these visits, he'd made it as far as their front gate). It wasn't so much as she _couldn't _make friends, it was more a case of her not _wanting _to. He knew Spencer. She was the kind of girl who got whatever she wanted, even if it wasn't handed to her on a silver platter. That's why, Spencer's anti-social behaviour had completely thrown him off the track when they'd first started living here, because he'd always known of Spencer as a very social person. Not exactly a social butterfly, but he had always sensed that she loved being around people and loved surrounding herself with activity. At least since Alison had taken her under her wing back in school. The fact that Spencer didn't want to make any friends, hell, even acquaintances in a place where they would probably live for the rest of their lives (happily, he hoped) was something that had caused him a lot of worry. But he'd eventually grown used to it, never questioning her, never prodding her to speak about her vague reasons for keeping her distance from society.

"She is. I think. The people at Holbrook High love her." Arianna's voice was too loud after the silence of Toby's thought, and her statement fell flat on its face. "I think she's fitting in well." She frowned a little, her eyes glazing over, clearly indicating that she too had been ensnared by a stray chain of thought.

Toby cleared his throat. It seemed like Arianna was blissfully unaware of whether anything was troubling Emily or not. Or perhaps he'd misread the entire situation. Perhaps Spencer's restlessness was due to an entirely different cause, and he'd just jumped to the first conclusion he could think of. Perhaps there was nothing going on between Spencer and Emily, and they were solidly ignoring each other like they had been since Emily had first made her appearance in Holbrook. Or perhaps, Emily was just better at hiding her feelings than Spencer was. For some reason, Toby had a vague feeling that the latter was more likely to be the case. And he couldn't investigate this without Arianna's help. He felt lost, not for the first time, and he wanted to help Spencer. He wanted to help Emily. And perhaps, even himself. It was time to come clean. It wasn't as if they could continue the charade any longer. Living in Rosewood had taught Toby that the truth always reared its ugly head, no matter what. Spencer would probably kill him for doing this, but it's not like he had a choice. He'd been driven to this. He had to come up with a way to fix the situation.

"She didn't tell you anything though, did she?" Arianna asked again, suddenly snapping out of her thoughts to fix Toby with an undeserved glare.

"When you invited us over for lunch—"

"Yes? Did she tell you something then?" Arianna interrupted, her brow furrowing as she tried to think of what it could be that Emily would've confided in a near stranger. It's not like Arianna had cheated on her back then. Emily hadn't seemed particularly unhappy then either. But she had been acting strangely that afternoon. Arianna's paranoia kicked into overdrive and her overactive imagination came up with several outlandish theories, not even waiting to see what Toby was about to explain.

"—it wasn't the first time I met Emily," Toby finished, awkwardly raking a hand through his brown locks. "In fact, I've known her since...forever. I think since we were...five." Toby paused, his own words bringing forth faded, blurry memories from the past. A childhood spent being shunned. Being the creepy boy, the loner that everyone loved to make fun of. He'd even been a swimmer, briefly. That's when he had noticed Emily. The quiet girl. The girl who always had a smile for everyone. A kind word for anyone who lost a meet, or perhaps got a bad time. She was a lot like him, he had noticed, even at a young age. And he'd tried to befriend her, and she'd been nice enough not to laugh in his face, like her swimmer friends had. But that had been ages ago. Before Alison had come along and made Emily part of her clique. After that, Emily had begun to act really differently. Toby had once again relapsed into nothing but the creepy boy, who according to the school grapevine, loved staring at girls in their swimming costumes.

Toby was jolted out of his brief sojourn in the melancholy hollows of his childhood by the sound of something heavy dropping to the floor. He looked up and noticed that a replica of the Pyramid of Giza that Arianna had been playing with was now lying on the carpet, one of the corners broken.

"Wait, what?" Arianna demanded, blinking rapidly. It was taking her usually fast brain a long time to process what Toby had just said. "You knew her?"

There was something building in the pit of Arianna's stomach, threatening to make her heave. Her blood was slowing down in her veins as what Toby had just said dawned on her. She wasn't the only one whose past had caught up with her. Apparently, Emily had a few skeletons, albeit ones that were very much alive, in her closet too. She'd been hiding things too, although Arianna had no idea why.

"We grew up in the same town. Rosewood, PA. Spencer, Emily and I. We all went to school together too. Well, I left before I could finish, but that's besides the point." Toby's voice was losing confidence with each syllable that he uttered, and right now, he looked as if he thought this had been a really bad idea to begin with. "The thing is, Spencer and Emily were best friends. Them and two other girls. They were literally inseparable."

"Wait, wait. Hold on. Spencer Hastings knows my girlfriend too?" Arianna's voice was incredulous, and she plopped down on the couch beside Toby, looking puzzled. "I don't understand. Why did Emily hide this from me? Why did you all pretend not to know each other?"

"Things happened." Toby chewed at the inside of his cheek, wondering how to phrase it. Arianna already looked shocked enough from the bombshell he had dropped, and he didn't want to cause a nuclear disaster. "Things in Rosewood were never easy, and stuff got between Emily and Spencer. I guess we were all looking for a way out of that place, so it was really unexpected to see Emily here. I think it was easier for them to pretend like they'd never been friends."

"Oh. So, you're saying they had a...fight of some sort?" Arianna was trying to be supportive or understanding or whatever it is that normal people did. But she really felt like punching something right now. Something solid. Spencer Hastings' face, perhaps? But she had no idea why that thought would pop into her head.

Toby nodded in agreement, feeling some of the tension loosen inside him. He had sensed that Arianna was sensible, and so far, his assumption had been right. She wasn't freaking out, yet. "Did Emily tell you of any recent fight they had?"

"Fight? What fight? I don't know of any such thing," Arianna shook her head, frowning. It was like all her worst fears were coming true. There had always been a part of Emily that had been inaccessible to her, this mystery that clung to her that she'd never been able to solve. Hearing Toby say all of this was making her feel like she hardly knew the girl that she was in love with.

"I think Spencer and Emily had a fight. Quite recently, too. I think the fact that we live across the street from each other is making it really hard for these two and I just want to make it right. Emily was a really close friend of mine, and I do care about her so much." Toby spoke slowly and clearly, putting emphasis on every word to make sure Arianna got the sincerity behind his words. He did care about Emily, but right now, all he was thinking about was Spencer. Ever since Emily had come, she'd changed. Drifted away from him. She was more irate, more distant. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to bring his favourite smile back on her lips.

"Oh. Whoa. This is kind of...I need some time to...you know, process this. And understand it." Arianna sighed, pushing a stray lock of hair out of her dark, droopy eyes. "It's so strange knowing that Emily had a whole life that I know nothing about."

Toby smiled unexpectedly, although it wasn't really a happy one. It was like a sad smile. A defeated smile. A smile that looked worn and familiar on his lips. "Welcome to Rosewood. I guess you can leave the place, but it still stays inside you. Spencer and Emily...they've been through a lot. And they have their secrets. I know how it feels like...to be on the periphery, to never know what's bothering the person you care about the most. I've just learned to accept it. Perhaps you should too."

Arianna shook her head, a bitter half-smirk twisting her lips. "I guess we are really different people, Toby. I would never accept that."

Toby's smile never faltered, and a look of understanding passed between the two. "Perhaps you won't have a choice."

* * *

Emily waited until the last girl was out of the natatorium, made sure that even the stragglers had made their slow departure before returning to the azure pool, gazing at it as if at a long lost friend. It was funny, in a painfully ironic way, that there had been actual times when she'd hated the pool, hated everything it had stood for. She had always loved the water, always felt like she had belonged in it. But there had been so many instances when she'd questioned her actual reasons for taking swimming up so aggressively from such an young age. She'd always felt pushed by her parents into it and for a long time, it had made her hate swimming, simply because it had made her feel like she was only conforming to her parents' wishes and not discovering her love for the water by herself. Even choosing swimming as her career had been something she'd done because that was what was expected of her. Her college coaches had thought that talent like hers couldn't be let to go to waste and everyone around her had agreed. She had played along with it, as always, letting others chalk out her future. It wasn't so much as being pressurized into it, rather, she had gone along with it because the one thing she hated most was disappointing people. Especially people she cared about. As long as she could do something to prevent others from getting hurt, she would do it. But she had ended up loving it along the way. Competitive swimming looked like it had been made for her. Or the other way around. Sure, sometimes she had found herself wondering where her life would have gone if she hadn't tried out for the National team, but winning (something she did a lot) usually had done a lot to remove those stray doubts.

But now that she'd been forced to give up that life, she found herself inevitably drawn to it. She missed hearing muffled cheers whenever she won a meet. She missed the familiar, the welcome tension that used to nestle in the pit of her stomach before a competition. She missed her crazy training schedules, missed pushing herself hard, harder, and finding that her body had this amazing response to pressure and gruelling training that usually wore the rest of her team-mates off. But more than anything, she missed the water with an almost physical ache. She longed for the pleasurable burn of exertion in her muscles from pushing water away, wanted to feel the world move fluidly around her like it used to whenever she swam. More than ever before, she found regret stretching out and sinking its roots into her chest. Toxic regret, poisoning the blurry remains of emotions that she had left for the girl she loved.

Arianna. God. The feelings of regret vanished and were replaced by feelings of guilt. Because thinking of Arianna made her think of Spencer and everything in her head went to hell.

No, she couldn't be thinking of Spencer again. She had forbidden herself from thinking of her, especially, thinking of her like _that. _Because Spencer was no longer just moon-lit nights and stolen drives, she was also frantic, measured touches, the cold war that had left her shivering in its aftermath.

_Damn._

She really needed to clear her head. She pulled her thoughts away from that attractive entity that shall not be named in her head and busied her hands with the zipper of her jacket, shrugging it off carelessly. Her trackpants were next to go, leaving her in the black swimsuit she had worn before coming to work. She had planned this. She needed the water, she needed physical exhaustion to wipe away the terrible thoughts in her head. Her eyes quickly scanned the empty natatorium. All clear.

She didn't want any of the girls to catch their coach in the water for many reasons. Firstly, it would make them wonder. Wonder what she was doing in the water. Secondly, it had already happened before and the consequences weren't pleasant. It had been just after Spencer had kissed her the first time. The water had been her only refuge from the clashing emotions that had threatened to drive her insane. She had swum recklessly after the team had finished practice, unaware of the scrutiny of several team-members. That had started the questions. They all had felt comfortable enough around Emily, perhaps because she radiated warmth, to bombard her with queries. They'd all been impressed by the finesse which Emily's strokes possessed and they were modest enough to constantly impress upon her how awed they were by her. Some of them had even begged her to let this job go and get back where she belonged; they all believed she was wasting her time here. The last thing Emily wanted was to hear her own doubts and complaints being echoed back with such confidence, from multiple sources. So she'd never let herself give in to the innate need inside her to swim whenever life beat her down. That is, until now.

With one last sweeping glance to make sure she was really alone, Emily leaped forward, executing a simple and clean dive. The water rushed around her head, enveloping her in a blurry blue. She hadn't bothered with goggles, and already, her eyes began adding their own salinity to the pool. The momentum from her dive made her fingertips graze the bottom of the pool as she arched in the water, cold liquid streaming through the gaps between her outstretched fingers. She could hear nothing, smell nothing, there was no resistance before her. She hovered blissfully under several feet of water for few fractions of a second before she was pushed back up. Her head resurfaced and she paused for a few moments to snatch some of the oxygen from the chlorine-infused air, before plunging back into the sweet relief of the water. She didn't waste any time in warming up. Every muscle in her body seemed to be humming with pent-up energy. God, she had _needed_ this. Breathing was secondary now. Her body took over her mind as she slipped into an accelerated rhythm that she used to employ only during the weeks leading up to a competition. The brief swim in the lake, from that night, a faded memory by now, paled in comparison to this. She belonged in the pool. It was one of the only places where absolutely no one dominated over her. The water was her ally, a companion, an instrument for the power she felt running through her veins. No one could script what she did here. No one had the right to take away the only place where she felt brave enough to let go of all her usual restraints_._

Emily alternated between techniques, as if she was showing off to an invisible crowd, she used all of the strength that had been lying dormant in her muscles, waiting for an opportunity like this. She pushed herself hard, never pausing to take a breather, compelling herself to swim like she was in a race. A race with herself. She wasn't running away from herself. She was swimming. But only thirty minutes had passed, and she found her body finding this exhausting routine comfortable enough for her mind to start making a marked comeback. Thoughts that had been filtered out by the loud beat of her heart rushing in her ears and the adrenalin-fueled strokes started echoing in her mind again.

Spencer.

The supermarket. The frozen foods aisle.

_God._

She was such a terrible person. She stopped in the middle of the pool, abruptly, her arms and legs clashing against the sudden stop. She let the sudden exhaustion take over her and she started sinking, willfully. She hadn't even worn a swimming cap (how many rules was she going to break?) and her hair was an inky halo around her head, obscuring her vision. Her lungs began to burn with the lack of oxygen, that precious, life-giving substance. And the burn somehow reminded Emily of the resonating burn in the pit of her stomach, in her heart, in her veins, everywhere. Her lungs were screaming for air, but every single cell inside her body, every single day, was screaming with the same urgency for Spencer. Every single day. She went further down, ignoring the cries inside her, reveling in the feeling of oxygen-deprivation. Reveling in the feeling of victory against her body. This was what not talking to Spencer shouldn't feel like. But it did. Hell, it was a thousand times worse. She wanted this burn to replace that other burn that made no sense and made her feel terrified.

However, she was only human, and soon, her body overrode her mind. Without her consent, her arms reached upwards, and her legs kicked the water out of the way, and she was fighting to get to the surface, feeling dizzy with the lack of oxygen. Her head broke free of the cold, liquid world around her, and her mouth hungrily opened to inhale short gasps of air, her heart straining in her chest with exertion. The fog in her mind cleared after several minutes of doing nothing but breathing, and she decided it was time for her swim to be over. Her leaden arms carried her to the edge of the pool, and she climbed up lethargically, taking time to get used to the sudden return of her full weight.

Her thoughts, along with her weight, made a forceful comeback, crowding her numbed mind. Spencer, Arianna, the pool, all mingled into one crazy mess. As she slowly walked to the showers, trailing water with every step, she started sorting out through the tangled threads of her thoughts. Everything disappeared and the red-hued, the bright, vibrant thread remained, shouting to attract her attention. Spencer. The way she made Emily feel. The crazy things she did. The crazy things she made Emily want to do. It made no sense to her. Emily had always had a golden rule that she never broke. Never fall for your friends. She'd done that once before, with Alison, with disastrous results. It had been the most torturous one-sided relationship she'd ever been in, and she never wanted to revisit that experience. But now, she was here, in Holbrook, with Spencer, making the same mistakes.

Spencer had been the one to kiss her, though. Emily hadn't made the first move. But that was small comfort for the fact that Spencer was _straight _and, oh yeah, she was also _engaged_ to Toby. Just thinking about that fact made Emily's stomach clench and something painful and scratchy emerge at the back of her throat. She had no idea why Spencer had kissed her, and all those explanations (of revenge, hatred) she had come up with had been crushed under the weight of their previous meeting.

Emily hated herself for doing it, but she had carefully collected the words Spencer had whispered to her then, and stored them in a special place in her mind, from where they echoed to her constantly throughout the day. Making her feel things that she didn't know she could feel. What had she said? Oh yes. That Emily was driving her insane.

Hah. _As if. _

How could a girl who could barely control her own sanity, induce insanity in a mind as great as Spencer Hastings? Who was she? Just Emily Fields. The sweet one. The shy one. The one that barely mattered.

But Spencer made her feel like exactly the opposite. When Spencer looked at her in _that _way, giving her the look that she'd never seen Spencer give anyone before, not even Toby, Emily felt like she held the keys to some sort of a paradise. Spencer had ways, these little, amazing ways, of making her feel like she was living in a perpetual dream. Even before their kiss, before all of this confusion, back when they were rediscovering each other, falling into friendship for a second time, Spencer had found ways to get inside her like no one else had. But Emily had no idea when they had gone from being simply platonic to something else. Maybe it was because before, their friendship had always been filtered by the constant tension they lived with, because of A. Perhaps before, they had never really gotten to spend so much time together, alone. They'd always had Hanna and Aria was buffers, and it had been easy to not notice whatever...chemistry they might have shared. But now, it felt like they had been locked up in solitude, and they'd stumbled across something entirely new.

It wasn't just something new. It was something entirely wrong. Forbidden. Crazy. Dangerous.

And they both knew that.

Which was why Emily was here, in the first place. She'd come here as an exercise to exorcise Spencer Hastings from her mind, her heart, her body, and she'd ended up obsessing over the girl instead. Sighing to herself, she took out a towel from her bag and proceeded to the showers, with a heavy heart and a whirling mind.

* * *

**A/N : **_Not my best filler, yes. I had a Spemily scene in this, but I cut that, and it'll be there in the next chapter. _

**SpemilyForever:** _Thank you so much! I do enjoy the sexual tension myself, so I try to include as much of it as possible._

**Speed Reader**:_ Thank you! I'm sure you'll like what does develop later on._

Guest_: Wow! Thanks. I was worried it would be a little slow for people's liking. _

**go-sullivan** _: Thank you so much for those wonderful comments. Haha, Spencer is very hot, whether she's licking her lips or not._

**prentiss-be-mine**_ : Don't we all? Haha, I think Emily is a little intimidated, that's all. And your story is amazing, so thank you for writing it!_

**LaughLoveLiveXx:**_ Thank you so much! I've got to admit, dialogue is my Achilles' heel, but I'm glad that lack of it can also help the reader understand the characters. And you're awesome, for catching that metaphor, 'cause I did mean it as one. And I do love strong, female protagonists, and Spencer seems to naturally fit into that role. I'm hoping to show Emily was one as well, because in my opinion, contrary to popular belief, Emily has the potential to be very strong. _

**spinoza-off**_ : Thank you! Idk why, but to me, it seems as if Spencer would always be the first one to break the rules, at least out of the two of them. Emily is more cautious in her approach, although that doesn't mean that her desire is any less. No burning in this chapter, but I can't make the same promise for the next. (;  
_

**x-sugarfree-x**_ : You're right about that! You won't have to wait long. xD_

**JustforKicks403**_ : Thank you so much. I really wanted to highlight the crazy chemistry that these two have and I'm glad it came across to you. Your comments are really kind!  
_

**Craycrayforshay**_ : Wow! I am totally flattered. There are pretty awesome Spemily fics around though, so that means a lot to me. I'm glad you're enjoying my fanfic so much and I hope you keep enjoying it!  
_

Guest_ : Thank you. :) _


	14. Plaid Ties And Cream Towels

**A/N: **_Alrighty then. Basically, a Spemily-centric chapter. Hooray! _

_Note_ : _This continues directly from the last chapter. _

* * *

**Chapter 14 - Plaid Ties And Cream Towels**

Twenty minutes and several small accidents later, Emily was coming out of the shower, wrapped up in a towel, dripping locks of jet-black hair framing her face. The sight that greeted her nearly caused her to trip and fall flat on her face. Nearly.

Leaning against the locker, fiddling with her Blackberry, was the same girl who had been haunting her thoughts.

Spencer Hastings.

God, what was she doing _here_?

"Jesus, Spence!"

Spencer looked up, hastily pushing her phone in the pocket of her trousers. Her hazel eyes made a slow, lingering journey up Emily's towel-clad body, and she bit her lip, her posture suddenly changing. Emily suddenly felt very very self-conscious, and her hands moved to tighten the towel around her. It was a stupid gesture, really, because her towel was already firmly in place. And it wasn't like Spencer hadn't seen her in a towel before. They'd had lockers really close to each other's back in school. She'd never felt shy in front of her before, but things had changed since then.

"What are you doing here?" Emily asked, her voice quiet and uncertain. Spencer could feel the nervousness radiating out of the tanned girl, and for some reason, it made her want to smile. So she did, her lips curving up in a hint of a smirk that made Emily blush furiously.

"I needed to talk to you."

"How did you even get in here? Only staff and students are allowed in," Emily quirked an eyebrow, edging away from Spencer's gaze. She could feel it burn into her skin, igniting sympathetic flames in the bottom of her stomach.

"I can be very persuasive," Spencer drawled, pausing before the last word, purposely drawing out the syllables, her eyes glinting. "I may have resorted to a few white lies." She shrugged, the very image of aloofness. Emily felt irritated; she was annoyed because here she was, burning up at a simple glance, and Spencer still managed to look so unruffled in her immaculately ironed shirt and plaid tie and perfectly creased trousers.

"You shouldn't have done that. How did you know I would be here?"

"Lucky guess." Spencer moved to take a seat on one of the benches, her eyes moving away from Emily for a second to survey the locker room. It looked very much like the one they'd had in Rosewood, and being here brought back memories of her field-hockey days.

"Well, can you wait till I get dressed?" Emily asked, lowering her eyelashes and looking at the ground when Spencer's eyes alighted on her again.

"What if I don't want to?"

Emily inhaled softly, looking up to meet brown eyes searing into her. God, those eyes. They made her legs turn into jelly and it wasn't fair. At all. Spencer wasn't the one standing in nothing but a damn _towel._

"Well, too bad. I have to get dressed." Emily's voice was firm, and she pressed her lips together, hoping that her face mimicked Spencer's when she got all serious.

Spencer's eyes suddenly lit up with amusement, and instead of getting up to leave, she settled further in her seat. She raised her hands in a show of defeat. "By all means, go ahead. It'll be like I'm not even here." There was a subtly teasing undertone to her words, and Emily could swear that she was doing this on purpose.

Well, two could play that game.

Emily strode forward and sat down right next to Spencer, all shyness gone from her demeanour. Her eyes met Spencer's with a challenge.

"You know what? I'll wait till later. I'm sure whatever you have to say is absolutely urgent. Or you wouldn't bother me, right?"

Spencer couldn't help but let her eyes wander once again, and Emily nearly jumped with the sense of victory it made her feel. She could notice that underneath that cool exterior, Spencer was the same mess that she was.

"I..eh, yeah. You're right." Spencer's voice had dropped an octave, something that Emily was familiar with by now, and it only proved that her assumptions were right.

Emily arched an eyebrow and crossed her legs, shifting the tangled, wet mass of her hair over one shoulder, leaving the other bare. She felt another surge of victory when she noticed Spencer flinching at the movment. "So? What did you want to talk about?"

"Erm...you know, maybe you really should get dressed." Spencer's throat was moving, she was swallowing slowly and her eyes were unfocused. She usually had impeccable control over her mind, her thought, her speech. But the sight of Emily, within touching distance, dressed in nothing but a _fucking towel _was doing crazy things to her heart. (And other places.) She had gambled with her words, and now she was losing. She hadn't expected Emily's response, hadn't expected this sudden change over the taller girl.

"You said you didn't want to wait. And I'm okay like this. Really." This time, the teasing tone was hidden underneath Emily's voice, and Spencer had the vague feeling that she was being laughed at. This was so _not _okay. She was Spencer _fucking _Hastings!

Steeling herself, and willing her mind not to wander, Spencer finally compelled her eyes to meet Emily's gaze, hoping that she wouldn't completely melt. "I wanted to talk about..you know. _This._" She gestured with her hands at the space between them, as if trying to imply everything that had taken place with that simple movement. "You understand, right? I've been thinking a lot about it."

"And?" Emily's tone was hopeful, but her onyx eyes gave nothing away.

"And..." Spencer took a deep breath, as if she was about to dive headfirst into a pool. "It's wrong." The words left her in a rush, making her feel completely hollow inside and she almost scrambled after them, wanting to pull them back.

Emily's face fell like a pack of cards on a stormy night. She quickly hid her disappointment, fixing an impassive expression on her face, the one she'd been practicing in front of the mirror. Despite her attempt, the casual nothingness sat awkwardly on her countenance, leaving behind gaps through which Spencer could undermine her defenses.

"I know," was all she said, all confidence disappearing with those words, her bravado nowhere to be found. She shivered suddenly, although the day was anything but cold, but she could always blame the rapidly cooling droplets that still clung to her skin.

"I know too," Spencer whispered, the smirk faded from her face, her eyebrows coming together like conspirators. She knew this would be hard. She'd stayed up all night, replaying the chance encounter with Emily. With Toby's rhythmic breaths as a muted muzak to her musings, everything she had said, or done, to Emily made her want to crawl into some underground haven and never come out. The guilt had overwhelmed her, when she had turned, and Toby had automatically shifted with her, his arm resting around her shoulder like it belonged there. It did. The ring around her finger was proof to her guilt, to how wrong she was. She'd worked out a speech, complete with a list of pros and cons, before coming here. She'd rehearsed every word until she found herself muttering under her breath without even noticing. But now, right here, everything was coming undone and her mind had been wiped clean of her words, false and true.

"You're wasting your time then." Emily's voice was strained, and she looked away. Everything inside her was slowly getting heavy, and her veins were filling with lead.

"No." Spencer's hands automatically reached for Emily's cheeks, turning her head to look into her tortured eyes. She leaned forward, quite unwillingly, but unable to control herself anymore. "No," she repeated, and Emily felt like Spencer was peering into all her cracks, and seeing who she really was underneath.

"But what I wanted to talk about, what I had planned to talk about, isn't what I'm going to talk about, after all. See, you have this way of rewriting my plans. And I honestly have no idea how you do that." Spencer paused and she slowly licked her lips. "I—"

Her words were cut off by the sudden, abrupt press of Emily's lips against hers. Spencer froze, her words dying under the weight of Emily's passion, her train of thoughts suddenly screeching to a halt. Then she began to thaw, slowly, the fire spreading from the point at which Emily's lips touched hers and spreading throughout her body, till she could feel the warmth curl her toes and her fingertips, until she was nothing more than a figure of wax that had been left too close to the fire. Melting. Doing what she'd been trying not to do. Completely turning liquid, at the simple, chaste kiss. Before Spencer had the chance to respond, Emily pulled away, just as abruptly as she'd initiated the kiss, looking breathless.

"You talk too much."

Spencer couldn't help but blush at that, her cheeks blooming with colour because of the intensity of Emily's glittering gaze. Dark, trapped stars.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Spencer breathed out, her words as unsteady as the erratic beat of her heart.

"This?" Emily arched an eyebrow, jaw clenching. She would have laughed, were the situation not so serious, at how Spencer continued using that same word that could never convey what lay between them. Spencer, the one who was usually so eloquent, who loved putting names to things, was as confused as she was when it came to their tangled, and inexplicably linked, emotions.

"This." It wasn't a word. It was more like a faint exhalation against Emily's face. Warm breath on cool skin. And this time it was Spencer who leaned forward, capturing those full lips that were so tantalizingly close. Emily let out a little gasp of surprise, her lips parted, and Spencer took the opportunity to slip her tongue past those gates, the vanguard before the army. Emily could swear that a part of her died a beautiful death at that little act of boldness, and it was all she could do not to moan in an absolutely wanton way against Spencer's lips and let her know of how _good _this felt. Then, mimicking Emily's actions, Spencer pulled away, and the kiss was over before it had properly started.

"_This _is what we shouldn't be doing," Spencer said, once she'd caught her breath. Her hands were trembling slightly, and she didn't know how, but they had found their way to Emily's body without her guidance. Now, the shaking fingers of one hand were resting on a bare knee, while the other hand fiddled with the edge of the towel. Oh, the towel. Noticing the position of her hands made Spencer remember where she was and what the girl in front of her was wearing. Or rather, not wearing.

"Also, you really shouldn't be wearing just a towel around me. As you can see, I have no morals whatsoever," Spencer added, her lips curving up slightly with a hint of humour mixed with something that looked like fear.

Emily grinned, shifting in her seat, a move that brought her flush against Spencer. "Are you saying that you're afraid you'll take advantage of me?"

"Well, when you make it _so _easy..." Spencer's smile was now a smirk, and her fingers shifted from Emily's knee and rested slightly above it. "It's you who should be afraid."

"Afraid of what, exactly?"

That teasing tone. Again.

It was doing things to Spencer and she honestly wanted to _kill _this girl.

"You know. Me, taking advantage of you," Spencer replied slowly, hazel eyes darkening with something that Emily didn't want to put a name to, something that she was sure was reflected in her own eyes, black mixing with black. "You should be very afraid."

"I don't want to be afraid of something I want, Spencer."

The tease was over, the air had thickened, all because of the look Emily was giving Spencer. It was mixed with regret, guilt and so much desire that she wanted to burst. Everything was back to where they had started from. But Spencer didn't want to think of the thoughts she'd had before coming here. She didn't want to think, period. The way Emily said her name made Spencer feel really, really proud of her name, and she didn't know why. Emily made the name sound like a tune, like a candy that she was rolling on her tongue, enjoying the taste of it in her mouth. Spencer found herself wanting to know how her own name tasted on Emily's lips. And that's why she leaned in and kissed her best friend, again, but this time wasn't like the previous kiss. This wasn't a game. This wasn't just a way to lessen the distance between them. This was real.

This time, their lips came together like they were soldiers, going out to fight a battle, clashing angrily in the small space between them. This time, there was no restraint, no hesitation, no thoughts as barriers between them. This time, Spencer wasn't mimicking Emily at all—instead, she was kissing the girl in front of her in her own way, sans embellishments. Spencer's hands made the brief journey up Emily's sides, and came to a rest on her shoulders. Her lips were greedily devouring Emily's, and instead of sating the fiery hunger that burned inside her, their kisses fueled it, sharpened it till it came alive and became a separate being inside her, controlling her actions.  
She could feel one of Emily's hands clinging to her tie, tugging it to bring their faces closer, and the other moving to twist itself in Spencer's wavy hair. Spencer deepened the kiss, her fingers digging into the hollows above Emily's clavicles, her breaths coming faster now. Emily pulled away a little, just so that they could look into each other's eyes; it was so much worse than the kiss because it made Spencer's heart ache and burn, then emerge from the ashes with a greater capacity to feel every little thing that Emily was making her feel. Emily leaned forward and slowly, very very slowly, caught Spencer's bottom lip between her teeth, tugging on it slightly before capturing it with her mouth. It made Spencer shudder, and afterwards, she could not stop shaking, even when Emily reinitiated the kiss that threatened to erase their memories, erase their identities forever. She found that through her own movements—the scrape of her teeth against Emily's lips, her tongue teasing its way into her mouth—she somehow started to make Emily shake too, till they were both trembling together like dry leaves caught up in a storm.

It seemed like eternities had passed when they finally stopped kissing (and touching and pulling and sighing into each other's mouths), when they finally looked at each other. The haze of desire, of pure want for the other person, had not yet lifted and it fell around them like a soft, sheer curtain, shielding them from the outside world.

Finally, Spencer spoke. "Maybe you shouldn't be afraid." But she wasn't talking just about Emily. She was talking about herself too.

Emily's voice, when it came, sounded so husky, yet somehow, still so innocent, that it made Spencer tremble again. "You'll have to teach me how to not be afraid, Spence."

"I would teach you if I knew how."

It was so honest, in a completely heartbreaking way, that Emily couldn't help but place a small, sweet kiss on Spencer's lips.

Spencer sighed, then moved her hands from Emily's shoulders just so she could hold Emily's hands instead. "How did this happen?" she asked, curiosity mingled with confusion in her voice. She was still struggling to understand how they had gone from being platonic to so much more in such a short span of time. And it had been so damn easy.

Emily shook her head, looking just as miserably confused as Spencer. "I don't know. I don't understand." Her fingers were absently stroking the knuckles of Spencer's delicate hands, sharp jutting angles being smoothed over by an anxious touch. "I wish I knew how it started so that I'd know how to stop it."

"What if I don't want it to stop?" There was something dangerous in Spencer's voice, something that raised goosebumps on Emily's arms. She was reminded of the fact that she wasn't really dressed, and all at once, she felt shy. She wanted to take her hands away from Spencer's firm grip, but she knew that even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to. Something was holding her in place, right next to the girl who had suddenly become magnetic to her.

"You must. We must. You said it yourself. This is wrong."

"I don't care. _I_ was wrong."

Emily sighed, then freed her hands from Spencer's, and turned her head away. Her hair had been pushed back by Spencer's fingers, and now she put it over her shoulder again to partially hide her face. "You would never leave him, would you?" Her voice sounded weak, and there was a trace of bitterness in it.

Spencer started to deny it, started to defend herself, but stopped. She knew Emily was right. She would never leave Toby. Not now, at least. She couldn't think about leaving Toby. Being with Toby was easy. Being with Toby was right. It was something she'd planned. It was something she'd been doing for what felt like forever. She wouldn't know how to handle her life without him. But there was Emily; and she made Spencer feel the complete opposite of what Toby did. To be with Emily, Spencer would have to step out of her comfort zone. She'd have to admit to liking girls (well, at least Emily). She'd have to live constantly with this storm inside her (not that she didn't these days). Being with Emily was like standing outside in the pouring rain and watching a hurricane coming your way.

"You're right."

"You're his." Bitterness, again. Only this time, its presence was more marked, and Emily flinched at the sound of her own harsh voice, as if her own words had taken her by surprise.

That, Spencer could deny. Because, despite the ring on her finger, she hardly felt like she belonged to Toby. "I don't think you, or I, get to decide who I belong to, Em."

"But you are. You're engaged to him."

"That doesn't mean anything." The words slipped out automatically, effortlessly. It also effortlessly earned Spencer a glare through curtains of almost-dry-but-still-sort-of-wet hair from Emily, and she rolled her eyes in response.

"It means a lot, actually."

"I didn't mean it like that." Spencer sighed, feeling dejected. How had they gone from kissing like that to talking about her being engaged? But then, it sort of made sense. They needed to talk about this. "I just meant...that, I know I am engaged to him. And it's not that you make me forget that. It's terrible, actually, but although I'm always very much aware of being engaged to Toby, it still doesn't stop me from...you know." She flushed a little, again skirting around the task of naming what they were doing. Naming what they were now. If they were anything at all.

"You mean, kissing me?" Emily was always blunt when it came to stuff like this. Spencer had noticed that ever since Emily had come out and started being confident about her sexuality, it was like she'd also grown much surer of herself whenever it came to things; especially romantic things. It made Spencer feel a little ashamed; ashamed that she was brave enough to do these things but not voice them.

"Yes. But not only that." Spencer reached out a hand, albeit a bit hesitantly. Slowly, pale fingers gathered up damp locks and pushed them out of her line of vision, making a strong wave of juniper-perfumed shampoo and chlorine infused air overwhelm Spencer's senses. It was a strange mixture of scents, but Spencer found herself getting hooked to it already. "I wish it were just that." The hand that had pushed her hair back rested in the hollow of her shoulder, fingers absently tracing figure-eights on caramel skin.

"What do you mean?" Curiosity was enough to turn Emily's face, and it brought those glittering black eyes to meet glossy brown ones.

Spencer opened her mouth to speak, then paused, as if gathering her thoughts. When she finally did speak, her eyes were speaking along with her, providing a complete different kind of explanation and interpretation of her words. "It's not just wanting to...", she paused again, her eyes flicking to Emily's lips before moving quickly back to hold her gaze, "...kiss you. If it were just that, it'd be so much easier to handle."

A frown naturally began to twist Emily's eyebrows, and Spencer had to try too hard to resist the impulse to smooth the creases away with her fingers (and kisses). She hastened to explain herself further.

"Em, the thing is, I've been attracted to other people before. I mean, you know me. Slutty Spencer. It's like I can't go a day without someone hitting on me." Here, she added her trademark smirk, and was pleased to see those evil lines disappear from Emily's forehead and reappear in the form of dimples on her cheeks. She felt like an amateur magician whose first trick had worked. "It happened a lot in college. But it was nothing like this."

"What are you trying to say, Spence?" Emily was unconsciously (or perhaps consciously) drawing ever closer to Spencer (which should've been impossible), and Spencer was finding it really hard to think, so she backed away a little.

"That I don't think I'm _just_ attracted to you. Although, I am _very _attracted to you." Saying it felt like a knot in Spencer's chest had dissolved into nothingness. But it still brought back the blush to her cheeks, and she looked down, unable to meet the amusement and that something else in Emily's eyes.

"I'd be very offended and also very flattered if you were simply attracted to me. Wait, I don't really know how that works," Emily replied, smiling at the sudden bashfulness in Spencer's behaviour. It was like seeing a predator shying away from its prey. A rare sight.

"You don't get to laugh at me. Especially after you nearly strangled me with my own tie." Of course, the shyness was too good to last, and the Spencer Hastings that Emily knew (and loved) was back, making her blush and forget all those serious-sounding words that she'd been storing in her head.

"I'm sorry."

The utter sincerity in Emily's voice made Spencer burst out laughing, and she ducked her head and brushed a brief kiss on the raven-haired girl's forehead. She didn't move back; instead, she just inclined her head so that their noses were touching and all they could see was each other's eyes. She let a few, long seconds tick by before she replied, "Don't be. Because I was hoping you'd do that again sometime."

And somehow, they were kissing each other again, and really, it was Spencer's fault for saying those words (at least according to Emily). It felt like they could hardly go a few minutes without wanting to feel like they were falling and flying (and they didn't know which was which), and they could only feel that way if they found their way to each other's lips. This kiss was slower, like their mouths were already old friends, and were taking the time to reacquaint themselves. Their sensations were radically different from the kiss before; if that one had been like a blazing fire, this was like the slow, torturous movement of lava. It felt like their bodies were slowly breaking, and shifting, and rearranging until they were brand-new, until they were re-cast as the mirror image of the other.

It was Emily who broke the kiss, but only to mutter, slowly, "You're not even giving me a chance to strangle you." She said it so seriously, that it made Spencer smile against her lips, till they were both smiling two different parts of the same smile, a broken smile that merged together in the spaces between them. Emily's hands slowly, carefully made their way up the front of Spencer's shirt, her fingers tracing over the seams, rubbing over the buttons till she had the collars twisted in her hands. She used it to pull Spencer even closer, till even the air between them was dying the deaths of their stuttering heartbeats. They continued kissing, only it was a broken, disjointed sort of kissing now. It had become small, shy little kisses against eyelids, and cheeks, and noses and chins, and everything else in between.

Spencer wasn't going to be left behind in all this, and her hands started a rebellion, unable to keep at their place near Emily's shoulders any longer. They mapped the smooth, taut skin over the shoulder muscles before dipping down, making a journey downwards as Emily's hands did the opposite. Fingertips danced across the skin of Emily's arms, sneakily slipping to skim over the inside of her arms, making Emily shudder. Pale fingers almost blended in the cream towel, and god, it was a damn towel. And suddenly, Spencer started thinking very dangerous thoughts. This wasn't like kissing a guy, at all. If it were, her hands would've had no restrictions. They would have been roaming freely over abdominal muscles, and over bare chests and she would've thought nothing of it. But now, her hands were bunched in the fluffy fabric of a slightly damp towel, and all she had was her imagination and the muffled, throbbing heat of skin hidden beneath layers that she could feel underneath her fingers.

"You really should've gotten dressed." The words hit the side of Emily's face, and she pulled away, looking at Spencer with a strange look that made Spencer shiver.

It was a statement. It was a warning. It was a plea.

"Yeah."

"It's getting cold. You'll catch something."

"I think I already have."

And Spencer had to smile at that. Because Emily was right. They'd both caught something, and it was making them delirious. It was like a fever. It could probably explain why their skin was burning up. It could probably explain why they felt hot and still shivered. They'd both caught something.

And it might be incurable.

"I should go. And let you...uhm, get dressed." Suddenly, Spencer was finding it really hard to look into Emily's eyes. She shifted back, then got up from the bench, pressing her lips together.

"Okay. But..wait, Spence?" Emily had her hands in her lap now, and it seemed like the same malady had struck her. Her eyes were on her hands, and she was twisting her fingers.

"Yeah?" Now that Emily was no longer looking at her, Spencer could safely chance a small glance at the girl. It was too soon, however, and she got unsteady on her feet and had to stumble back to the support of a locker.

"What about...this?" Emily's eyes looked up and caught Spencer's. She suddenly looked so lost, so much like she had at seventeen, that Spencer had to wonder if she'd been transported back to the past. It didn't even come to her attention that Emily was now using the same term that she had been resorting to, it didn't even occur to her to point that out, to show that she was not the only weak one.

"I don't know."

And it was true. Spencer had no idea what was happening between them. She'd unexpectedly stumbled, no, she had collided head-on with the fact that she liked to make out with her childhood best friend. No big deal.

Except it was.

"So will you..." Emily paused, and looked down again, as if fighting with herself. "Will you continue ignoring me?"

Spencer grinned, then laughed softly at that. "I'd have to die to ignore you."

"We are still friends, right?"

"Of course. And, you know what? I'll tell Toby that too. He asks about you. A lot." Spencer shrugged, as if it didn't matter to her whether Toby knew about their friendship or not. It was a complete contrast to the way she had behaved before, when they actually had been nothing but platonic.

"He asks about me?" Emily sounded surprised, as if she couldn't believe that she actually existed out of her chance meetings with Spencer. "You talk about me?"

"Yeah. Yeah...he misses you." There was that guilt seeping into Spencer's voice now, and it traveled across the room and tried to make a house in Emily's heart. But Emily's heart (her everything) was already too full with sensations that Spencer had created. "He wanted to fix things between us because he thought we were better off together." She laughed at the irony, but it wasn't a very happy sound at all.

"I don't think I can face him, Spence."

Emily's voice was shaky, and those creases were back between her eyebrows, and Spencer jumped towards Emily immediately, bending down to take her hands. She raised them to her lips, and slowly kissed each of her knuckles, while keeping her eyes on Emily's, until the lines on her brow had been erased, as if they'd never been there.

"You can face him. You _will _face him. This...Em, please, don't let this make you feel bad."

"But it doesn't. That's sort of the problem, Spence."

"It shouldn't be. It won't be, if you don't let it be." Spencer didn't know what she meant, and she had no idea what she was preaching. She was just trying to say something, anything that would ensure Emily's peace of mind. She smiled at the tanned girl, then stepped back to her place, this time edging closer to the door.

"You'll call me, right?" The guilt was still there, but it was edged with the silver-lining of hope, and Emily had a way of amplifying hope through her voice.

"Yes. You don't even need to ask." Spencer turned around, twisting the handle of the locker-room door, beginning to push it to make her way outside.

"Spencer?"

Spencer half-turned, half her body holding the door open as she twisted around to look at Emily. "Yeah?"

"Don't forget."

Spencer didn't know whether she meant the phone call. She probably did. But Spencer couldn't help but wonder whether Emily was also referring to everything that had happened. She didn't dwell on it too long. She just looked at Emily, without words, for several long seconds; she was soaking up the sight, she was letting her memory take a perfect photograph, so that she could revisit this image when she lay awake in bed at night. She just waved goodbye at Emily, and walked out of the room, feeling her heart grow heavier with every step that she took, with every step that took her further away from the thing she wanted the most.

It wasn't until Spencer had already gotten into her car and was already on her way home, when she realized that they hadn't talked about Arianna at all. It was like they'd both forgotten about her existence, it was like she had never existed at all.

Back in the locker room, Emily, who had finally gotten dressed in a pair of comfy sweats, was thinking the exact same thing.

* * *

**A/N:** _So? Like/Dislike? Please do leave your comments/criticisms, or whatever you think will help me make this pairing even better than they are. Thanks. _

**go-sullivan:**_ Yay! If you're writing Spemily, please do share it with us. There's a serious lack of Spemily on the internet, and I'll be glad to read it. I hope I don't intimidate people too much though, haha. I'd rather they read the story than run away. xD _

**Craycrayforshay:**_ Thank you, thank you. Yep, I love angst, tension and all those frustrating bits about a couple! I do hope that my slow pace doesn't put off readers too, but I'm glad you're enjoying it.  
_

**SpemilyForever:**_ Thank you, I always try to write good fillers! I just think that Toby isn't dense, per say. It's just something that he would never even think of, so he doesn't question whatever connection he sees between Spencer and Emily. Although he does sense that the connection is very deep._

**LittleLiarLovesEmily:**_ Glad you thought so. I love the fact that you got that interpretation, because that was exactly what I was trying to say through that little part. I do hope you liked the Spemily overdose in this chapter. And about Chapter 12, I totally get where you're coming off. Trust me, it frustrated me too, and I was the one writing it! It almost feels like these things write themselves, haha._

**spinoza-off:**_ Thank you very much! I feel very flattered, and I'm really pleased that my writing can give you all of that. I feel like all good writing should be just about that : transporting the reader into another place, no matter where that is.  
Yes, Toby, he breaks my heart. I really do love him so much, but this is a Spemily fic, which means he will end up getting hurt. And you're right, there is trouble ahead! I kept it out of this chapter because I wanted it to be just about Spencer and Emily. _

**Sinclaire:**_ Wow, thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying the fic and I hope you continue to love what comes ahead. _

**Kxia:**_ Wow, I've got another amazing reviewer! xD Can't believe you're re-reading my fic, it kinda makes me feel over the moon. It's because of amazing insights from my reviewers that I could make my first fic into a sort-of-decent-ish one, haha. Thank you for all your lovely comments, reading them was like time-traveling through my own story, and it was a refreshing recap from another perspective, and I really appreciate it.  
_

**LaughLoveLiveXx:**_ You're right, as always. Toby is very perceptive and also very compassionate, so of course, as soon as he senses trouble with Spencer, he tries to fix it. Obviously, it may or may not end up with unpleasant consequences for all involved, but the boy has got good intentions!  
And yes, Emily's the martyr, but again, martyrs do have feelings, and I don't think Emily's going to settle for being a saint when it comes to Spencer. _

**JustforKicks403:**_ Yeah, she's that far gone! I just wanted to show the depth of her want, her absolute need for Spencer and the water seemed like a good metaphor. _

**Artisall:**_ I'm glad you've gotten into Spemily because of my fic! I tell you, they're amazing. Thanks for the kind comments!_

**AxLax420:**_ Thank you so much! I guess I get Spencer really well because I'm a lot like her, so it is very easy to understand and imagine what she might be thinking or feeling. I had a struggle with capturing Emily, but I'm glad you thought it was a job well done. x) _


	15. Did My Heart Love Till Now?

**A/N: **_So sorry about the delay! This was supposed to be up much earlier, but I had certain things that took up my time, sadly. Also, pardon the Romeo and Juliet references. I love Shakespeare. _

* * *

**Chapter 15 - Did My Heart Love Till Now?**

When Spencer got home, it was evening and the sky had already darkened to the colour of an old bruise. She shut the door behind her with a resounding thud, and lethargically let the keys drop from her hand into the bowl by the door. She sighed and leaned her head back against the solid oak, letting her body slump against the door. She felt vaguely fatigued. Her mind was in a state of befuddlement, and her thoughts were crawling by at the slow-moving pace of a snail.

The house sounded, and felt empty, and Spencer inclined her head in wonder, and more confusion. Toby was usually back much before she was, and in fact, she was later today than usual. Before her mind could wander down that particular avenue, it was cleverly distracted by a fleeting thought about Emily.

Emily. Why had she suddenly made an unannounced appearance in her head? It was almost like she lived her now; or rather, the ghost of her did. Her thoughts about Emily were like half-remembered shadows of Emily. If even a fraction of the real thing ever made its way inside Spencer's mind, she was sure that she would explode.

Now, she was trying to purge her mind of the slowly replaying scenes of the kisses they had shared. (Or rather, the kisses that had come and conquered them both, making them feel utterly powerless.) She'd been able to keep these thoughts at bay when she'd be driving, but barely. Now, there was nothing to stop them, and Spencer found her mental barriers crumbling, letting in the heady rush of images, refreshed sensations, and overwhelming emotions.

She hadn't gone to visit Emily with a plan of kissing her. No, Spencer had promised herself that her momentary lapse of judgement on that glorious moonlit night would be the only one. She had even managed to control herself around Emily, and she thought that she could allow herself some bit of satisfaction for having the will to resist a towel-clad Emily Fields.

But she hadn't been able to, for long. Emily, surprisingly, had kissed her, and it seemed like that was the invitation Spencer had been waiting for. She felt ashamed, and a bit sick, that she hadn't even tried to stop herself, no, the thought of stopping hadn't even come to her mind. All that she'd been thinking in those perfect moments could summed up in a single word : more. She'd wanted more, she'd needed more, she would've nearly begged for more. But she was sure that neither of them was ready (or immoral enough) for that. Yet.

Spencer started walking towards the living room, tugging on her tie to loosen the knot, so that she could breathe more easily. The simple gesture, something that she did almost unconsciously, reminded her of yet another kind of pulling, on that same tie, but by a different set of hands, in a different kind of way. The thought made Spencer teeter unsteadily on her legs, made her crash into the doorway (in a house that she could navigate even in the dark!), then stumble into the living room. The room was cold, as the usual fire that Toby kindled every evening wasn't burning merrily, and Spencer was once again reminded of his absence. She set down her bag and folders on the couch, and wandered like a lost person around her own living room, her hands reaching out to straighten objects that didn't need to be kept straight. There was a dark cabinet in the corner of the room, holding a few, sombre books that Spencer thought reflected her maturity as a reader. It was kept there to impress any distinguished visitors to the house (although they usually had none). This, she opened with shaking hands, and she started organizing the already alphabetized titles.

After she had pulled apart and put back the living room together, she moved on to the kitchen. The kitchen was strange; there was no sign of cooking done, there was no anything. Toby usually had a meal ready for them when Spencer came home. Now, she found the counters clean, and no pans or pots waiting to be filled with food. It made her frown, then, she wondered whether she should start cooking. It had been so long since she'd cooked a proper meal, that she felt like she'd never cooked in her life. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, feeling a little disoriented and very lonely.

That was when she heard the distant sound of the front door unlocking, and loud steps echoing in the hallway. Toby was home.

He must've noticed her keys in the bowl, and the tie that she had discarded on her journey to the kitchen, because she heard his voice call out, "Spencer? Are you home?"

She didn't reply, and let him come to the kitchen looking for her. When he entered, he looked...different. Perhaps it was because Spencer was really _looking _at him, for a change. But she couldn't help but notice the lines around his eyes, and the funny set of his mouth. He looked nothing like the boyish Toby she'd known and loved. Suddenly, she found herself staring at a man who looked older than his years, and who was now looking at her with a completely indecipherable expression. The whole experience made Spencer feel even more disoriented, almost like she was living inside someone else's dream. It was like she'd gone to the library, opened the first page from her favourite childhood novel, and found lines and lines of a foreign language staring back at her.

"You weren't answering."

"Yeah, I guess I didn't hear you." It was a lame excuse, but Toby seemed to think nothing of it. He smiled uncomfortably at her, and pushed his way past her to the kitchen cabinets, opening them to peer inside and shake his head gravely. He took out several pots and pans. "How come you're late today?"

Perhaps it was Spencer's imagination, but she could swear that Toby froze at her question, for the smallest amount of time, before he moved to the fridge, avoiding Spencer's eyes. "You know that gazebo I told you about? Well, the guy held me back today and made me go over each and every detail for a hundred times before I left. Sorry." He said all of it really fast, all the while trying to look really busy as he took out boxes and opened them, then put them back inside.

Spencer frowned, trying to remember if Toby had ever told her anything of that sort. She honestly couldn't remember, and it made her feel guilty, so she smiled cheerfully at him and played along. "Yeah, I remember you telling me about that. Well, at least you've kept busy."

Toby turned his head at her words, a frown twisting his face. He felt awful, lying to Spencer, but he knew if he told her what he'd actually been keeping busy with, she'd fight with him. He didn't want to fight. He just wanted to make things better, for everyone. So he had created a fictional gazebo with a fictional employer, but Spencer pretending like she knew exactly what he was talking about made something in his stomach clench and burn.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, but I don't think there's anything I can cook now. How about a frozen pizza?" Toby absently asked, opening the freezer to take out a big, rectangular cardboard box. He looked at Spencer for her approval, like he was used to.

"How about we order for Thai? I'm in the mood tonight." Spencer smiled, then her eyes widened when she noticed the look on Toby's face. Oh, damn those accursed double-entendres. He was looking at her as if she had suggested something completely inappropriate—or rather, completely appropriate, seeing that they were engaged, _for heaven's sake_—and that blush which had creeped its way onto Spencer's cheeks shouldn't even be there.

"Are you, now?" Toby smiled, and raised an eyebrow, holding her gaze for even longer once he had noticed the tell-tale flush of scarlet painting her face. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes away from the love of his life, and put the frozen pizza back in the freezer. "Why don't you order and I'll put those pots away?"

Spencer nodded, grateful for an excuse to turn away. She fished in her pockets for her Blackberry; she took it out and began scrolling through her list of contacts for the number of her favourite Thai takeout place. The air was still thick with the insinuations that Spencer had read all too clearly in Toby's eyes, so she started talking just to push the silence away. "Oh, guess what? I met Emily." She said it breezily, as if she were merely commenting on the weather or sharing an irrelevant fact about her day at work.

A pot noisily clattered to the floor, and Spencer looked up, her eyebrows raised. Toby met her eyes with a startled expression and a sheepish grin. "Sorry. What did you say?" His voice was a little shaky, Spencer noted, and it made her a little suspicious. Why was he acting so strange? Was it because she had mentioned Emily? Was he still harbouring those strange thoughts he had about them? Had he not believed her when she had said that they had fought and had ceased all communication?

"I said that I met Emily. Outside, actually, right when I got home. I...I think we're okay now."

Toby raised his eyebrows, and his smile drooped, as if something was slowly weighing down the corners of his lips. "How did things get fixed so suddenly?" he asked, one hand moving to rub his chin. Spencer's words made him feel wretched inside and he wondered whether this was divine intervention. Just when he had decided to take matters into his own hands, they had somehow once again slipped from his grasp. Perhaps it was a sign. Perhaps this meant that his efforts, when it came to Spencer, were wasted.

Spencer's grip tightened on her phone, and the material let out an inaudible groan in protest. Was that strange inflection in Toby's voice suspicion? Or was she just being paranoid?

"It wasn't sudden. I guess we both thought that it was time to let the past go. You were right." Spencer spoke in even, measured tones, hoping that she was being clear yet vague enough. It wasn't an easy balance to strike. "I have you to thank for that."

Toby flinched, but it was so slight that Spencer missed it completely. "What do you mean? I didn't do anything."

"You know that's not true, babe. I probably wouldn't have had the courage to face her that first time if you hadn't been with me." Spencer was aware that she was laying it on too thick, but she couldn't help herself. Her relationship with Toby - the only constant in her life—had changed so much when she hadn't been paying attention that it took way too much effort to go back to the way things used to be. It used to be anything but hard—it had been as effortless as waking up every day—but now everything felt awkward and uncomfortable. So, as was her nature, she shouldered the blame—it belonged with her—and tried too hard to make things as natural as possible.

Little did she know that her efforts were having the opposite effect. The more Spencer tried to show her gratefulness, the guiltier Toby felt for going to Arianna. "You know I'd do anything to make you happy, right?" His voice was a silent, unspoken, unnoticed plea. Spencer, of course, did not, could not understand what he was really saying, but he said it with such a sincere force, he was sure that it would be imprinted on her brain, a carbon copy of concealed emotions for future perusal.

Spencer blushed again and bent her head, feeling exactly like she had when she had won the Golden Orchid for an essay that she'd plagiarized from Melissa. The turmoil of emotions inside her were the same—the shameful, inevitable pride and the sly, poisonous guilt vying for first place in her heart.

She began fiddling with her phone to distract herself from her feelings, ignoring the intensity of Toby's gaze. When she'd finally found the number, she pressed the call button, sighing with relief as she finally had an excuse to turn away.

"Hello? This is Spencer Hastings. I'd like to place an order."

It took her ten minutes to place the order and an even shorter time to forget about Toby's presence. So, she jumped with shock when she felt warm lips on her neck as soon as she'd gotten off the phone. Taking her gasp of surprise as one of pleasure, Toby chuckled and snaked his arms around her slender waist, pulling her so that her back was pressed firmly against his chest.

"Toby! What are you—" she inhaled sharply as the lips moved up, his hands mirroring their action, his fingers reacquainting themselves with her body. Soon, she could feel his breath tickling her ear.

"I missed you, baby." The longing in his voice was naked now, and it made Spencer feel a dreadful mix of automatic desire and a strange, new repulsion.

"Toby." Spencer warned, shifting in his arms uncomfortably. "The delivery guy will be here any minute."

His grip didn't slacken, his breath continued to stir the locks of hair near her ear. For the first time, Toby wasn't reacting to the stern tone in Spencer's voice. "Spencer." There was that teasing purr again in the way he rolled the syllables of her name on his tongue.

Spencer spun around in the tight circle of Toby's arms, her eyes wide. Her hands moved to rest on his shoulders and she pushed slightly. He obviously took her resistance as some kind of foreplay and his lips put on a smirk before they were suddenly meeting Spencer's.

It was nothing like kissing Emily. As soon as the kiss began, her senses got tangled in an inevitable confusion. She'd still been savouring (unconsciously, of course) the lingering vestiges of Emily's kiss, she'd been trying to hold onto that addictive taste. Kissing Toby unbalanced everything. It had been so long that it felt like she was kissing a stranger, and when her hands automatically shifted upwards, instead of meeting long, silky locks, her fingers met with confusion dressed as short, gelled hair.

Spencer pulled back, her heart clenching painfully in her chest, as if she was doing something terribly wrong. Shouldn't this be what she should have been feeling when she'd been kissing Emily? Shouldn't her heart be rising up in her chest right now, like the way it had when Emily had simply _glanced _at her? Blue eyes were all she could see, but it was the wrong colour. It was the wrong arms around her shoulders, the wrong body pressed to hers. It all felt so wrong when only a short time back, it had felt so...right.

"Spence? What's wrong?" There was confusion and that same, double-edged concern in Toby's eyes now, the kind that tore at Spencer's heart. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked by its master. "Is this...do you not want me?"

Spencer gulped, and chewed on the inside of her cheek, hoping that the wrong (or the right) answer did not accidentally slip out. She smiled, and willed herself to feel the same desire that she could see so clearly in those clear, cyan eyes. "I'll always want you." Her words wiped the worry away, and the ache in her heart, instead of decreasing, only intensified. Her words felt hollow and weak.

But she should want him. It was the right thing.

Wanting _her _was the wrong thing. Right?

Nothing made sense anymore, but Spencer knew that perhaps, if she tried hard enough, her body (her so-far heterosexual body) would begin to reassert itself and sort her emotions out for her. So she tried to drown out her thoughts and nearly jumped on Toby, kissing him roughly, sloppily.

The kiss wasn't the soft one he'd been expecting, and their teeth clanged together, and something hit the bridge of Spencer's nose. It didn't stop the determined girl, who now was using her momentum to carry her forward till she had Toby against the fridge, his reticence slipping away.

_This couldn't be that bad, _Spencer thought, as she kissed and allowed herself to be kissed, as she displayed the kind of emotions that she couldn't feel. She was sure that at some point, she would start feeling like herself again. Perhaps Toby's kisses, and his frantic touch would erase the memory of Emily's. Perhaps the imprint of those black, burning eyes would be burnt away from beneath her eyelids.

Perhaps she could convince herself to fall in love with Toby again.

* * *

Emily had taken her time getting dressed at school, allowing herself to soak in the full impact of everything that had happened. The locker room was now sacred ground, and she had wanted to spend some time there, by herself, to bask in the afterglow of her little encounter with Spencer.

Spencer. The girl who basically refused to leave her thoughts. Her best friend. Serious Spencer. Funny Spencer. Flirty Spencer. The Girl Who Made Everyone Turn Into Mush Spencer.

Now, Emily was regretting delaying her departure from school. She'd already stayed back later than usual, and then Spencer had come along and taken up more time (not that she'd minded, not at all), but Emily wondered if Arianna would be too mad.

Wait, why was she even worried? Emily shook her head, as she got out of her car, and ran her fingers through her jet-black locks. She had to keep reminding herself that she owed her girlfriend nothing, anymore. They barely spoke to each other these days. There was some sort of a Cold War between them. They exchanged customary words during breakfast, divided the household chores equally between them, and sometimes even watched television together. But there was always that space between them on the couch, and they always sat on the opposite ends of the dining table. They tried not to stay together in the same room for too long, and whenever they did, they made sure to have a laptop or a book with them to avoid conversation.

Emily didn't know who had started it. Perhaps, she had been the one to initiate the constant ignoring, the cold shoulder. Arianna had tried, she had tried very hard to bridge the gap between them. But Emily couldn't be helped for wanting to burn every one of these bridges. The fact was, her heart still hurt. But now, it was a completely new kind of ache. A guilty ache. An uncontrollable ache. A terrible ache.

When she got inside the house, she could already sense that something was not quite right. Her suspicions were affirmed when Arianna came out in the hallway as soon as the door had clicked shut. She had a menacing expression on her face, and her usually sharp features looked like they could slice the thick tension with ease.

"So, you've finally come home." No sort of a greeting whatsoever.

Emily scowled, shrugging her bag off and taking her jacket off without a word.

"Where were you?", Arianna continued, a sneer starting to twist her lips quite automatically. "With Spencer?" She spoke without thinking, but was rewarded with a sickly sweet satisfaction at the look on Emily's face.

_Gotcha. _

Emily had tensed and frozen in her actions, her mind whirling. _How could Arianna know? Was she spying on me? _she thought, biting her lip as her pulse rate started increasing. "I went swimming." She wouldn't deny or accept the fact. She didn't know whether she could go for an outright lie right now. Especially after what had happened. With Spencer._  
_

"With Spencer?" Now Arianna was definitely taunting her. "Don't worry about trying to hide anything. I should've seen it from the first day. The way you two looked at each other."

Emily's heart dropped to her stomach, as if she'd skipped a step while coming downstairs. She turned to Arianna, her insides heaving. She had no idea how Arianna was suddenly reading her thoughts as if reading words printed on paper. "What are you talking about?", she managed to choke out, her voice trembling, her eyebrows furrowed.

"I said, don't worry now. I know everything." Arianna smiled, and some of that sharpness seemed to be gone now. However, her voice dropped when she said, "I know everything about you and Spencer."

Emily's knees weakened immediately, and she half-stumbled, half-fell forward, landing clumsily against a door handle near Arianna. The shorter girl immediately moved to support her girlfriend, a thoughtless action, an action that caused Emily to shrink back as if she'd been burnt.

"I-I can explain—" she started to say, her tongue working before her mind. All she knew was that suddenly, she was brimming with guilt, and a terrible realization of how wrong she'd been to cheat on Arianna. Not once. Not like Arianna had cheated on her. But Emily had gone back for more. And it was horrible. And it made her a horrible person.

"No, don't. You don't need to," Arianna cut in, her hand reaching for Emily's arm. This time, Emily didn't move away. "Toby told me everything. He came this afternoon, actually. He was worried." At Emily's look of alarm, she added, "For Spencer and you."

Emily felt like she was going to throw up or faint or do both and honestly, she didn't feel like she had the energy left to do either. Toby knew too? The fact that he did was a hundred, no, a thousand times worse than Arianna knowing, and the fact that she thought that was a bad thing in itself. "Toby...what?" She felt so confused and terrible, that she felt like sinking to her knees and crying.

"Why did you hide it from me, Em?" Now, the sharp glint was back in Arianna's eyes, and her raspy voice was edged with the smoothness of steel. "I always knew there was a part of you I never had access to...I just didn't know it would be the whole of you." She shook her head, her hand slipping to Emily's wrist, her fingers against Emily's pulse.

"I'm sorry," Emily blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. "I'm so sorry and I was so stupid, and I'm a hypocrite because I did exactly what you did and I shouldn't hold a grudge against you and—" She was silenced by Arianna's look, and her fingers against her lips. She jumped back immediately, unable to stand the feel of her skin.

"Yeah." Arianna was looking down at her fingertips, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. "We both hid things, and I don't think we should've done that. But...it's okay. I understand. I know what it's like to want to...escape." She sighed, her inky-black eyes moving up to meet Emily's shimmery gaze. "I wish you would've told me you had a painful past. And forgotten best friends. If Toby hadn't come today and told me about your fight with Spencer, I never would've guessed."

Emily's eyebrows shot up in confusion. What was Arianna talking about? How could her girlfriend even remain so calm about all of this? Emily would've expected Arianna to be out the door by now, out to get Spencer's skin as a living room rug or something of that sort. Arianna was probably the most possessive and the most competitive person she'd ever met, and none of this was fitting right. "What did Toby tell you?", she asked hesitantly, her heart lifting with hope.

"Only that you had...a complicated past. And that you and Spencer were best friends and something vague about external forces getting in the way of that." Arianna shrugged, now looking bored of the whole thing. "He was really worried about his fiancee. And you. Said that you used to be a close friend of his."

Emily nodded with every word Arianna said, her heart lifting higher and higher till it was back in its right place. So Arianna didn't know. Thank god. But this meant that she knew that her and Spencer were friends. And that Toby wanted to fix what he thought was still the problem between them.

Oh. Poor Toby. Emily's heart had hardly recovered from the shock, and now it back being tortured by short, irregular spasms of guilt. Toby had been a really good friend of hers. She was still a terrible person.

"I was. And yeah, whatever he said is true." Emily bent her head down, playing her favourite card. The I-Am-Sorry-But-Look-At-How-Cutely-Innocent-I-Am-How-Can-You-Stay-Mad-At-Me card. Her lips were upturned, her eyelashes were lowered, but she was looking at Arianna through them. "High school wasn't the best time for me, at all. And there's a reason I never told you about it. It's because I wanted to forget all about it myself."

Only, like the past had caught up with Arianna, her own past was catching up with her. It had more than caught up with her. It was conquering her in the form of Spencer Hastings. (And she was liking it a little too much.)

Arianna caved under the gentle, but irresistible duress of Emily's doe-like eyes, and smiled, the steel gone, the glint gone, all sharpness suddenly becoming blunt edges. "I know what you mean. I'm sorry you had to go through all that." She shifted her feet awkwardly. Now that she'd gotten the confrontation out of the way, it felt like there was nothing else that they could talk about. She felt her heart twist as she realized that it was her fault that they had gotten this way.

"It's not your fault."

And suddenly, it felt like they were hardly talking about Emily's past anymore.

"I'm still sorry. I can't help but feel that everything that makes you unhappy is my fault because I wasn't there to make it right." Arianna said it before she could help herself, but from the look on her face the instant the words left her mouth, it was obvious that she hadn't been planning on saying that.

Emily wasn't planning on hearing that too, and her eyes widened, and her heart melted just a little. She shook her head unhappily, all wide eyes and upside-down mouth now.

"You shouldn't feel like that, then. You're not...you're not responsible for my happiness."

Arianna flinched, but very slightly. "But I am." Her voice was thick, and her words dropped like stones in the miles and miles of ocean between them. "I always feel responsible for your happiness. Because it means mine too. I _am _selfish." She smiled, a lopsided one that looked frayed at the edges, rough and rusty with disuse.

Emily wanted to shut her ears. She didn't want to hear any of this. This wasn't what she needed. Not today. Not after what she had done. Not after what she had enjoyed and what she wanted to do again, and again, and again. She frowned automatically, and it made the smile slip off Arianna's face like someone had switched off a light.

"I think we all are." She breathed out softly, as if trying to hold a lot of things in. Emily was afraid that she would slip up and Arianna would see through her disguise, so she started walking towards the stairs, signalling an end to their conversation.

"I-eh, Em..Emily?" Arianna called out when Emily had reached the bottom of the stairs, her fingers knotted together. Emily turned, and raised her eyebrows in reply. "Could you...would you come back to our room?" Her voice was weak, and faint, and sounded so unlike Arianna, that it made Emily take notice. The once-strong girl was now diminishing in front of her. And it was all because of Emily. She ruined everything she touched.

"I'm sorry. I need some time."

Time. Her faithful excuse. It worked _every time. _

Arianna nodded, her eyes getting suspiciously bright and watery, and she started blinking rapidly. Emily felt every seam holding her chest together being ripped open, and right then, she just wanted to kill herself for being so cruel. Instead, she clamped her lips together and fled to the safety of the guest bedroom, where she could hate herself in private.

* * *

The night was cold, already heralding what would be a harsh winter, and Emily Fields was wrapped up in several blankets on her bed. She was curled up on her side on the quite large bed, the conspicuously large space left behind symbolizing the loneliness that was beckoning her with open arms. Eerie sounds took over the night, with a background screaming and moaning as trees bent under the constant duress of a cruel wind. The sounds were atmospheric, in all the wrong ways, so Emily couldn't be blamed for jumping when she heard a scrape against the glass of the French windows leading to the balcony of the guest bedroom. She rose up in her bed, gathering the blankets up around her and pressing her hands against her chest. The scrape came again, followed by a muffled clatter. Emily could feel her heartbeat accelerating, and she rose up from the bed, padding bare-feet over to the French windows. She had always wondered why Arianna had chosen the room with an unimpressive view of the road for them, and left the one overlooking the back garden for guests, and now she found herself accounting for her girlfriend's actions with sinister reasons.

The glass was fogged up and frosty, and Emily could see nothing but blackness. She twisted the door handle, and opened it just a little, letting a sliver of moonlight seep in and wash the room with a pale glow. It brought a bitter wind with it that chilled Emily to the bone, and she shivered in her loose t-shirt and shorts. She thought she heard a voice, and it made her stomach swoop, but she decided to be brave and opened the door further. Just then, her phone started buzzing loudly, breaking the silence that had been reigning. Emily screamed softly and jumped, and her grip slackened on the handle, and the wind took the opportunity to fling the door wide open. She ran to her phone, and picked it up as fast as she could.

"Hello?" Her voice shook so badly that the syllables came out mangled. "Who is this?" she tried again.

"It's me." The voice unmistakably belonged to a certain person.

"Spencer?" Her pulse rate was coming down, and she could breathe more easily now. The whining of the trees, which had seemed spooky before, was laughably irritating now. "You're not asleep yet?"

"Uhm...no. I'm freezing."

Emily frowned, wondering if she was hearing it right. "Come again?"

"I said, I'm freezing. Did you not hear me? I swear I've waken up the entire neighbourhood by now."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm outside and you're going to have to defrost me by the time I get inside. I'm sure I aimed right."

Emily let out a small laugh. "You were throwing stones at my window?" She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Again?" She started walking towards the balcony.

"Yeah. The wrong one, at first."

Emily's eyes widened and she gasped. "Please don't tell me you woke Arianna up."

"No, no. Since I know how to look, I noticed that you weren't there, so I tried here. By the way, your girlfriend can sleep through a tsunami." The sound of Spencer's low laughter made Emily shiver again, albeit in a different way. "So, can you please let me in?"

Emily was now out on the balcony. The moon had been eroded away to a thin slice of silver, so the garden was cloaked in a darkness that made it impossible to see anything but vague shapes of the different plants and trees that Arianna had adorned the place with. "Where are you?", she called out, half to the phone, and half out into the night.

"I..ehm." There was a cough, then a pause. "Look left."

Emily turned her head, but all she could see were the ominous branches of a magnolia tree that looked quite pretty in normal daylight. "Are you gonna swoop in like Batman?"

"That was the plan, yes."

Emily chuckled. "What? You're kidding."

"I tried to climb and execute my perfect Spiderman moves but these branches are so unkind to creepers." Something rustled to Emily's left, and she moved to the corner of the balcony, her eyes wide. The tree looked like it was...moving. A pale something could be made out between its leaves, and Emily blinked her eyes, willing her vision to become sharper.

"You're not. Are you?" She was so going to start laughing. "Were you going to climb your way into my house?"

"Oh yes. The new-age Romeo." A branch that had reached quite close to the house started shaking violently, and Emily saw a dark form come out and start crawling down its length. It was Spencer!

Emily cut the call, her phone almost falling from her hand as she started shaking with quiet, but uncontrolled mirth. This was a sight that she couldn't see with a straight face. "Oh my god, Spence! I cannot believe you."

Spencer was grinning at her, and her teeth were reflecting the moonlight so well, it looked like a shining beam in her face. "What light through yonder window breaks! It is the east...and Emily is the sun." Her throaty laughter made the air around Emily thrum (or that's what it felt like to her), and she knew she was blushing like a schoolgirl and it made her mad. When Spencer had gotten a few feet near the edge of the balcony, she stopped. "What did I say? Creeper-resistant. You need to start growing vines." She reached out her hand, smiling at Emily. Irresistible.

Emily leaned over the balcony, and had to stretch to grasp Spencer's hands in hers. The branch was now swaying, and the wind made it rock even more, and the drop looked dangerous. "I don't think you can jump this far. You'll hurt yourself." The worry in her voice was marked, and for some reason, Spencer smiled even more manically.

"With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out." Spencer was exaggerating the words, and had assumed a high, dramatic voice and Emily had to seriously control herself or she'd burst out laughing and Spencer would seriously fall and hurt herself.

"Only you could be quoting Shakespeare in the dead of the night when you're trying to break into your neighbour's house. Classic Spencer." There was a teasing seriousness to Emily's voice, but more than anything, she looked fond. "Now, please, will you come inside?"

"If the lady doth insist." Spencer winked, and her fingers tightened around Emily's wrists. Their eyes met and they nodded, and Spencer pushed herself on her feet, crouching, ready to leap. Then, she leaned back, pushed with her feet and jumped, the branch groaning as it was bent downwards. Suddenly, she was airborne, and the pressure decrease on Emily's hands. Then Emily was pulling hard, and something landed on her, and she was knocked backwards.

"Ouch." Spencer laughed, and then winced when she felt a sharp jab in her ribs. "Spence, you're kind of crushing me."

"You broke my fall."

"And you broke every bone in my body. How nice."

Spencer pulled back, bracing herself on her arms that were on either side of Emily. She was still grinning, the leap having done nothing to wipe that Chesire cat likeness off her face. "I'm so sorry. You're nice landing material though." Her eyes moved from Emily's, and looked downwards. "Soft." That teasing tone, again.

Emily pushed her, trying hard to keep a serious face. "You're mean. Get off me." For some reason, it was getting harder to breathe, and it wasn't because of Spencer's weight on her at all. Despite the chilly night air, she was feeling warm.

"You wound me with your harsh words!" Spencer was still talking in that dramatic tone, and her lips were now twisted in a smirk. She pushed herself off Emily, standing up and wrapping her arms around herself. "Here I was, thinking, hoping, wishing that I would get a warm welcome."

Emily bit her lip to smother a smile, and followed suit, getting up slowly. Now that Spencer was standing a few feet away from her, she could finally see what the brunette was wearing. Spencer was wrapped up in a long, over-sized coat that looked like it had been put on in a hurry. Her feet were naked, and her toes looked deathly pale. Emily's eyes widened, and she tugged on Spencer's arm, pushing her inside. "How did you forget shoes? Are you insane?"

Spencer shrugged, and looked down, as if noticing for the first time that she wasn't wearing shoes. "I was in a hurry. I didn't want to wake Toby up." Now that the surprise had worn off, and their mirth and laughter had faded, the seriousness had returned, making the mood sombre. "I just needed to see you."

Emily sighed. "Come here." She was still holding Spencer's hand, and now she led the skinny girl to the bed. Her hands moved to Spencer's coat, untying the belt at the waist and taking it off. Her eyebrows started rising when she saw what Spencer was wearing underneath. Nothing but a white man's shirt which reached the middle of her thighs, which obviously belonged to Toby, and the underwear that was peeking through the semi-transparent material. She must've been in a real hurry. "What are y-what are you wearing?" She gulped and pushed Spencer down on the bed and sat down next to her.

Spencer started blushing, the colour taking its time to dye her a dark shade of scarlet. "I...uh..I took the first thing I could find because...yeah. Toby." She was mumbling into the sleeve of her shirt, her hand near her mouth. "Sorry." She had no idea what she was apologizing for, but it felt like she should. Perhaps for indecency. Not that it mattered between them. Or, did it?

"Oh." Emily nodded, and took the overcoat off her, getting up and slinging it across the back of a chair carelessly. "You need to get something warm on your feet. I think the water's still hot."

"I'll go...er..clean up." Spencer rose and walked to the en-suite bathroom, a little unsteady on her feet.

Emily let out a breath and sat down on the bed, looking at the creased coat hanging from the chair. She could not believe it. Spencer was in her room. Her girlfriend was sleeping in the next room. It was as if the fact had just sunk it. Spencer was in her room! This was insane, and Spencer was insane, and she was insane, but she really couldn't have left her friend (hah) out there.

Spencer got back after a few minutes, and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. "It's cold." The statement sounded flat, and Emily could sense that Spencer too had just realized the situation they were in. And perhaps she too was wondering how on earth they had got there.

"Yeah." Emily turned her head and looked at the brunette's bent back. "Do you want to change into something else?"

"No." A pause, then, "Unless you're uncomfortable with me wearing...this." Spencer wouldn't turn around because she was afraid that she was blushing again, because her face and ears felt unbearably hot.

"N-no! It's no problem. I've seen you wearing less." Emily spoke without thinking, and again, she was reminded of how things lay between them currently. Was it even advisable for them to be in the same room together? She didn't know.

"Yeah." There was a slow, hesitant chuckle. "You have."

Emily moved on the bed, getting on her fours and crawling over to where Spencer was sitting. "You're on my side of the bed, by the way."

Spencer jumped up, surprised to suddenly have Emily so close, so soon. "I'm sorry." She started half-backing, half-dragging herself to the other side, and Emily grabbed her arm, stopping her. "W-what? You said..."

"I never asked you to move."

Something changed. Something shifted in the air. Spencer found herself staring too hard at Emily, her eyes hungrily drinking in the vision. It was so different from looking at Toby. It was so different from looking at everybody. All the emotions that she'd been struggling to feel when she'd been with Toby was crashing into her like waves, and she let the current carry her to an unknown destination.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Emily was shifting now, and they were both in the center of the bed, and now, the space was accentuating how close they were.

"You're mad, Spence." Emily's fingers had interlaced with Spencer's somehow, and they both sat there contemplating the contrast of their skin, how beautifully they complemented each other.

"I am." There was so many unsaid words lying between those two, simple syllables that it made Emily shiver. "Your fault."

Emily started moving, and Spencer shifted too, perhaps unconsciously, perhaps willfully, unable to keep herself away from the other girl. Emily smiled, and Spencer shrank back against the headboard, looking slightly ashamed. Emily took the blankets and covered Spencer with them, then moved to the foot of the bed. She peeled back the layers, and sat looking at Spencer's feet. "They must be numb."

Spencer nodded, although Emily's head was turned away from her. "Yeah," she croaked, when she'd realized her mistake. "Like you said, I'm mad."

"Completely insane," Emily laughed, her warm breath hitting the cold skin and making Spencer sigh. Emily turned around and grinned. Then, she moved her hands till they were covering Spencer's feet. The skin felt like glossy, cold paper, and Emily began to rub softly, trying to revive the warmth, trying to transmit heat energy from her own body to Spencer's.

Spencer sat up, pulling her knees up, and her feet away from Emily. "What are you doing?" She sounded breathless, and her eyes were wide.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Emily's lips, and she shrugged, slowly pulling Spencer's feet towards hers and enveloping them with her fingers again. "Warming you up?" She bent down and blew on her fingertips, and grinned when she saw them wriggle. The pads of her thumbs were slowly stroking small circles on the skin at the bottom of her feet. She started adding pressure with her fingertips, and soon it had become an all-out massage.

"You..really don't have to." Spencer was still staring at her, wide-eyed and mouth open, but she looked like she was thawing, just as Emily had intended.

"I don't want you complaining about a cold welcome." Emily's eyes were dancing, and it made Spencer go even more slack-jawed. With every word she uttered, warm breath hit Spencer's skin, a soothing, yet somehow titillating sensation. Emily had many talents, and it seemed that being good with her hands was one of them.

Before long, Spencer was reaching out and pulling Emily to her, and they were falling back till their heads hit the soft pillows. Their hair was a tangle of black and brown, and it was all over their faces, and they reached out and brushed the locks away, till they could finally see what they'd been dying to.

It was enough to take both their breaths away.

"Hi."

Spencer Hastings sounded unsure of herself, probably for the first time in her life,and Emily let out a small laugh, the atmosphere already lightening.

"Hi to you too, stranger."

Spencer grinned and moved closer to Emily, until they were dangerously close. "Didn't someone tell you about how dangerous strangers can be?"

"Maybe I want danger." Emily had an eyebrow arched, and a smile that was doing crazy things to Spencer's chest.

"Be careful what you wish for." Spencer leaned in, their noses touching, and she could feel the tanned girl freezing, she could feel everything slowing down. "You just might get it."

The kiss was supposed to come, but Spencer felt like being mean, and she felt guilty for what she had been doing earlier, and she leaned back, and the world started spinning again. She didn't miss the look of disappointment on Emily's face though, and it made a thrill rush through her veins.

"Don't make promises you can't keep." There was a touch of petulance in Emily's voice, a hint of that teasing tone that she seemed to use only with Spencer. "I hate getting disappointed."

Oh, god.

"I would hate to disappoint you."

And now they were kissing.

And rolling.

On top of each other.

It wasn't kissing, it was more like they were devouring each other. Somehow, Spencer had managed to magically transport herself on top of Emily, not unlike the way they had lain out on the balcony, only it was much more comfortable, and much more hot right now. She was kissing Emily so hard, she was afraid that she'd end up breaking her. Emily sighed into her mouth, relief personified. They both felt it; the relief, the almost palpable ceasing of tension, of the pain they had been in when they'd not been touching. Now, it felt like Spencer was breathing life into her, and she responded eagerly, her arms encircling Spencer's neck, pulling her down, so they could both sink in the sea of sensations. The night, they belonged to. The night emboldened them, and the night symbolized them, and they were the night. Therefore, it wasn't long before Emily's tongue was slowly, teasingly swiping over Spencer's upper lip, asking for entrance. The plea was accepted, and soon, they were engaged in a dance, a slow torching up of their insides till they melted into each other.

"Emily." It was just her name, but the way Spencer took the opportunity to slip it between their open mouths, the way the syllables seemed to roll from Spencer's tongue onto hers, drove her crazy. Passion, and something else poisoned her blood and she flipped them over so that she was on top, and Spencer let out a little gasp of surprise and suppressed indignation. Emily restarted the kiss, nipping at Spencer's bottom lip, and all resistances seemed to crumble and collapse in front of her determination.

Soon, her kisses were moving down, and later, she would blame the night, and the sparing moonlight for her reckless behaviour. Now, she couldn't care less, and Spencer's sighs and quiet, little sounds (that seemed to surprise Spencer herself), fueled her actions. Emily trailed small kisses down Spencer's long neck, marveling at the flawless lines that made her up. She paused at the hollow above her collarbone, and pulled back. Her hand moved up to trace a reddish mark that spread over her collarbone.

Spencer sprang up, like she had pressed a button, and moved her own hands to cover the mark. Her eyes found Emily's, and they were full of regret and silent apologies. "Toby." That one word was all the explanation that Emily needed. It explained Spencer's outfit, her urgent need to see Emily. It explained what they were and how wrong this was, but all she could think of in that moment was how angry she was and how unfair the world was. Toby got to mark her like that. She didn't. She saw Spencer moving in for a kiss, but she ducked her head, pushing the brunette down and resumed kissing, her lips moving over the hickey, and here, she grew daring, and cautiously tugged at the smooth, alabaster skin with her teeth.

The reaction was instant, and it was in the form of a broken moan that Spencer strangled by biting her fist. Satisfied with the response, Emily grinned, and began to drag the edge of her teeth along Spencer's collarbones, making the pale girl shiver. Here, and there, she nipped and bit at the skin, sometimes gently, sometimes not, and used Spencer's appreciative sounds as a guide as she went lower and lower, marking her territory. Spencer could always blame Toby for those in the morning. But they'd both know that it was Emily's signature all over her.

Emily's moves were slowly, but surely turning Spencer into liquid inside. All the fire that had been hiding from her, all the passion that she'd been looking for with Toby was here, right now. Her mind went back to Toby's touch, Toby's kisses, their hurried lovemaking and she felt disgusted. How could that match up to _this? _How could anything ever hope to compare with Emily's perfection? She couldn't think of a single day, a single time when she'd felt so full of emotions and sensations. She couldn't even think about Toby for long, because Emily's little bites, showing a side of her that Spencer hadn't even known existed, were doing wonders to her body, setting fire to her skin. Their legs were tangled together in the most amazing way, and it was so different to having Toby's legs rubbing against hers. This was the whisper of smooth skin against hers, warm toes rubbing against her ankles, knees brushing against her thighs in a way that made her legs feel alive.

When Emily's lips had conquered her collarbones, they moved lower, but Spencer's voice startled her. "You don't get to have all the fun." And then she was being pushed, and Spencer was on top of her, and their lips were engaged in a passionate battle again. But it was a constantly interrupted one, as Spencer kept pulling away to murmur words to her. "You are really good at this." Spencer was using kisses as her punctuation; the brief one, a colon, the lingering, teasing one, a comma, and the one that took Emily's breath away and made her legs squirm under Spencer's was the full stop. She pulled away again, taking the time to gaze into Emily's eyes with unconcealed desire. "The absolute best."

Emily smirked, and something cold and steely entered her gaze. "Even better than Toby?"

Spencer rolled her eyes and kissed Emily, her tongue teasing its way inside and punishing Emily's for the insolence. When she was satisfied with the way Emily was softly sighing, breathing, melting into the kiss, she pulled away and winked. "Better than _me_. And that's saying something." It was enough to make Emily laugh, and the way her dark, glittering eyes lit up made something ache inside Spencer's chest.

"No one can be better than you." Emily's hands moved to Spencer's cheeks, and drew her face to hers. "No one."

"No one can be better than _us,_" Spencer replied, mirroring Emily's smile, feeling the uncontrollable urge to kiss her again, but fearing that the world would shatter if she broke the gaze that had both their eyes locked firmly in place.

But they soon started kissing again, slowly, teasingly. They couldn't help it. It was impossible not to kiss. It was a torture for both of them, and their tongues slowly twisted and danced inside their mouths, and Spencer couldn't help but let her hands wander down, and this time, there was no confusion, no sense of wrongness at all. Her searching fingertips met with smooth, warm, feminine curves, and it felt so wonderfully right that soon her hands were overstepping their boundaries and they had slipped inside Emily's shirt to rest at her hips, her fingers sliding up and down. Emily moaned, and Spencer's heart nearly stopped, stuttered, and started again, changing gears so it could speed up to match Emily's. Her hands moved up, feeling the buttery softness moving under her fluttering fingers, and she could barely breathe because there was a sudden tight sensation in her chest.

"Spence."

Emily had broken the kiss, and she was staring at Spencer with eyes that were wide, eyes that Spencer was afraid she would drown into.

"Yeah?" Her own voice startled her because it sounded so rusty, so low and cracked at the edges. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I don't, and that's the point."

Spencer smirked, and her fingertips started dancing on skin, up and down Emily's sides and Emily flinched, her eyelids fluttering shut, her lips parting. Spencer bent down and captured her lips, taking advantage of the opening and conquering Emily's mouth with her tongue, taking her unawares. Emily's hands moved to her wrists and tugged them down, her fingers interlacing with Spencer's and pulling them out of her shirt, and up near their heads. Emily seemed to be playing a game of her own, because she was kissing Spencer so passionately that Spencer missed out the hand-pulling entirely until it was too late, and when she did, she groaned against Emily's lips.

"You can't distract me like that." Spencer was complaining, but she really didn't mind being distracted, as long as it meant being kissed by the goddess disguising herself as Emily Fields.

"Everything's fair in love and war."

Oh, this was war. A war of lust, a war of will, a war of self-control and a war of who was in control. This was a war, alright.

But was this _love?_

* * *

**A/N: **_So, that was it! Love it/Hate it? Let me know. I really struggled with this chapter, and I didn't really proof-read it, so let me know if there are mistakes! Thanks a lot. __  
_

**SpemilyForever**_**:** I think we all envy Spencer her strength! I certainly would've been far more inappropriate in her place. Thanks a lot for the kind comments!  
PS: It is kinda hard for me to do that because every chapter is different, and so is every week. I never know when I can actually update, so it's mostly random._

**pinkcrazyness**_**:** Thank you!_

**go-sullivan**_**:** Yeah, Idk I just feel like it's always like that with Spemily, even in the show.  
I would love to read your fic! I need more Spemily, and this website really lacks some! _

**itsmetati**_**:** More kisses in this one. (;  
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**LittleLiarLovesEmily**_**:** Thank _you _for your reviews, really. I wish it were that easy, but breaking up with someone after staying for so long with them is never easy, but we'll see what happens! _

**Craycrayforshay**_ : Thank you so much! You flatter me. :)_

**spinoza-off**_ : Thanks a lot! The drama has started, and there's obviously going to be more, as this fic centralizes on the adultery and stuff. Yes, when it comes to who's important, Toby wins hands down, because for both the girls, they've known him longer, while Arianna certainly wins no points when it comes to Spencer. _

**LaughLoveLiveXx**_**:** Haha, thanks. Your interpretations are amazing, and I feel like you really get the chapters so well! I think we all loved 3.01 and I wanted to have a scene like that, but it would be too soon, so I didn't veer in that direction. I'm glad you liked the closing paragraph because I really needed it to be emotional after their...well, ehm, physical-ness, let's say. And I really feel that they trust each other enough to be vulnerable around each other. _

**AxLax420**_**:** I didn't know straight guys watched PLL! Wow. :D Trust me, everyone thinks Spemily is hot, so you're not alone there. (; Thank you for being so nice!_

**Kxia**_**:** You really know how to feed my ego. Haha. I think the confusion will never fully go away because, not only are they cheating on their respective partners, but they are also transitioning from a beautiful platonic friendship to something more, and that is always a dangerous journey. I feel like, when it comes to this, the romance and the kissing, especially between girls, Emily would be the one to take charge because she's the one with more experience. But obviously, Spencer can never stand being left aside, or feel like she's not being active enough, and I just wanted to show that in their kisses. Thank you for the wonderful review. :D_


	16. Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow

**A/N:** _Meh-ish. I was being lazy with this one. It's really a filler, as there's no real plot-progression. Sorry! Also, sorry if it gets too fluffy. Totally unintended._

_Also, I want to thank all of my readers for reading this fic! All of youthe people who review, the people who don't review, are just amazing. I'd never expected that writing fanfiction could be so great, and it's because of your support that I continue doing this._

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Parting Is Such Sweet Sorrow**

Spencer Hastings was feeling like a poet. Sometimes, in her teenage years, she had allowed herself enough moments of controlled narcissism to admit that she did have a certain way with words, especially when the words happened to be long and unwieldy enough to intimidate most of her peers. But words, for her, had always been instruments. Surgical, precise, to be used when necessary. Now, they were becoming embellishments.

Anyone would feel like a goddamn poet when they were tangled up in bed with Emily Fields.

There were several cliches that were fighting among themselves to make it out of her mouth and escape into the quiet silence of the night, but Spencer controlled her poetic impulses. She didn't want to sound corny and stupid. This was uncharted territory, and one false move could mean serious peril.

"I've always been a morning person," Spencer whispered against Emily's cheek, her hands tightening around Emily's waist, pulling her closer (even if the feat seemed almost impossible). "You've changed that." She smiled, and Emily could feel it in the way her lips stretched against her cheek, the way some of that perpetual tension in the way she held Emily disappeared.

"I don't know whether I should be sorry." Emily moved her hands from Spencer's, and pulled her long, silky locks out of the way, so that she could crane her neck and look at Spencer. "I don't know whether I _can _be sorry."

Spencer laughed softly, the slope of her nose being pressed flat against the spot where Emily's jaw met her ear. She inhaled deeply, feeling strong notes of cinnamon and juniper overwhelm her senses. "You shouldn't be sorry. At all."

"I had a feeling you'd say that." Emily was smiling too, in the sweet, shy way that was so unmistakably hers. Her eyes were closed, but Spencer had a feeling that if she herself stopped smiling, the raven-haired girl would somehow sense it.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were getting cocky."

It was an obvious bait, and Emily cracked her eyes open just a bit to look at Spencer, rising to the opportunity with unconcealed relish. "You're not the only one with the license to act conceited." She rolled her eyes before closing them again, but her smile gave everything away.

Spencer chuckled again, and brushed her lips against the corner of Emily's mouth. She felt the taller girl stiffen briefly with surprise, then lean into her touch, eager for more. She pulled away before the kiss progressed, sighing.

"You're the only one who should have a license to act conceited, though," she whispered, making Emily twist around and look at her properly. Spencer's eyes were glinting with unconcealed admiration, and Emily felt her own eyes light up in response. "I mean...look at you," Spencer breathed out, grinning. Her voice was hushed, but filled with such awe and reverence, that Emily had to look away because she was blushing too hard.

Spencer found her face buried in midnight black tresses when Emily turned her head, and she didn't mind, not really. The smell of Emily was making her head swim in the most delicious way, and she felt her eyelids drooping. A deep contentment started swelling inside her, filling her up, the likes of which she had never felt in her life. "This is _so _nice."

Emily hummed her approval in response, enjoying the way every part of her body was somehow connected to Spencer's. Spencer's knees were brushing against the back of her knees, her shins were pressed to her calves, their hips had merged in harmonic sinusoidal waves on the bed. Spencer's arms were locking her firmly in place, and her hands were slowly tracing circles on the skin of her waist, making her jump slightly now and then. She was slowly getting used to the way Spencer's touch ignited little trails of fire that spread and joined to form larger waves of warmth that engulfed her. Now, she was appreciating the way Spencer was breathing slowly against the back of her neck, stirring the locks of hair gathered there.

"I still can't believe you're here."

It was crazy, and exhilarating, and scary.

But mostly crazy.

"Me either." Another laugh, a little shaky this time. "She won't wake up, will she?"

Spencer was deliberately not using Arianna's name, and Emily knew that. She shrugged, and the movement made new parts of Spencer come in contact with her skin, and the process of getting used to the distracting sensations was repeated again. New tingles blossomed at a million different spots, until Emily felt like she was composed of nothing but tenuous connections between little, burning fires sparked by Spencer. "If she did..." Emily shuddered to think of what might be the consequence if Arianna were to walk in now, and find Emily and Spencer curled up in bed like this. There was no way they could talk their way out of that one. Spencer was in nothing but a shirt, for heaven's sake, and Emily was all too aware of that in the way their bare legs were tangled up in each other's.

"We'd be screwed."

"She'd kill you." Emily laughed, because suddenly, the consequences seemed less threatening, and more comical. "She would murder you and mount your head on the living room wall."

Spencer bristled, her fingers curling and digging into Emily's skin, making her gasp. "I'd like to see her try." There was humour in her voice still, but it was tinged with unashamed annoyance.

"So would I, actually," Emily smirked, nudging Spencer with her elbow.

And just like that, the girl who slumbered, blissfully ignorant, in the next room (who had crossed their minds for a fraction of a moment, a filler between breaths), was already forgotten.

Spencer gasped with mock indignation, then turned Emily around completely till they were face to face. "I bet that's been your fantasy for a while," she countered, her trademark smirk making Emily feel like she'd been doing it wrong all along.

"One of them," Emily replied cryptically, using a different tactic to get at her opponent. She was pleased to see the smirk on Spencer's face being replaced by another equally infamous Spencer look : the one that resembled a fox's on a hunt.

"There's no way you're telling me the others, are you?"

Emily shook her head, grinning from ear to ear. It was so fun to see Spencer getting tortured when any kind of information was held back from her. And she loved the rush of power that she felt whenever Spencer looked at her with those big, brown eyes full of silent pleas.

"You have to!" Spencer whined, her hands moving up and framing Emily's face.

"I won't tell, but..." Emily's smile turned devious, and she leaned forward, making Spencer's breath lose its way on its journey out of her lungs. "I'd like to show you, maybe."

"Oh."

Spencer was dying several slow, torturous deaths at the same time. The worst thing was that Emily—the seemingly sweet and innocent Emily—looked like she knew very well the effect she was having on Spencer. It was such a strange shift from what used to be a purely platonic relationship between the two, and Spencer found herself struggling to catch up with her speeding heart and whirling thoughts. No one, male or female, had made her feel incapacitated enough to make her wonder if her name was really Spencer Hastings or whether she had dreamed her whole life up, and the only moments that were real were the ones with Emily in them.

All her feelings made her so afraid; the fact that Emily was hovering inches from her face certainly didn't help things at all. But feelings were good for nothing, as the next few moments proved. While she just lay there, impotent with all her pent-up emotions, Emily took matters in her own hands, and pressed a kiss against her lips, sighing slightly at the contact.

It hadn't been even a full thirty minutes since they'd finally stopped making out like a couple of teenagers, and Spencer found herself falling into the routine again. Only, it wasn't a routine like anything she'd ever known before. Kissing Emily Fields was like diving into an unfamiliar ocean, with an unknown depth. With every moment, she discovered something new, something that thrilled her till she quivered with barely suppressed excitement.

"We can't keep kissing," Spencer murmured against Emily's lips, without meaning her words, before nipping at the tip of her tongue. Emily retaliated in kind, and her words were made redundant. Lips and tongues battled in a war for dominance, a war that seemed to have victory on both sides, a war that possessed sweet defeats that didn't really feel like losses.

"Says who?" Emily whispered after a while, breathing slowly, her eyes fluttering open, surprising Spencer, who had thought that Emily hadn't even heard her in the first place.

"Says logic."

Emily rolled her eyes, and when she felt Spencer pull away, her hands immediately went to the back of her neck to cease her unwanted retreat. Boldly, she tugged on Spencer's delectable, upper lip with her teeth, causing their mouths to collide. She tasted victory in Spencer's moan against her, and the way those pale, slender fingers were now twisted wildly in Emily's hair. "Screw logic," she mumbled in between kisses, not giving the other girl a chance to reply.

Spencer pulled back after several heated moments, a smile stretching her swollen lips. "I'm sorry to inform you, but Logic has relinquished all ties with us," she replied to Emily's earlier words. Her fingers moved from Emily's hair, down her neck and rested on her collarbone, lightly tapping the skin there. "However, as Logic's representative, I will be more than willing to fill in," she added, her eyes dancing as she surveyed the quick change in colour of Emily's face. Emily was biting her lip, and those doe-eyes had widened ever so slightly, as if daring Spencer to go on.

Spencer did not know what exactly she was implying. (She knew too well, but she'd forbidden her mind from going down that road, for now). From what she could gauge, Emily too had created these borders, these invisible lines that they were both skirting around at the moment.

"Hm. I don't settle for replacements," Emily replied after a long beat, trying to joke it off, and she'd already turned away. She was on her back now, gazing up at the dancing shadows on the ceiling.

Spencer could only make out her profile because it was darker against the muted grey of their surroundings, clear cut against the blurry background. She continued lying on her side, but finding the sudden distance between them irritating, she inched closer to Emily, slinging a leg over Emily's, and an arm over her stomach.

"Em?"

"Hmmm?"

"What are we?" The words sounded awkward, and so unlike Spencer that Emily was forced to pause her sudden research on the ceiling and look at the girl lying next to her. Spencer flushed slightly, and chose to rephrase her words. "I can hardly call you my friend now, can I? I don't think friends do...this." Spencer winced, hating the fact that she had to resort to _that _word again, but it had slipped out before she could stop herself. Besides, what other alternative did she have?

Emily chewed on her lip, staring at Spencer. "You're right. Friends don't do this."

Spencer tilted her head. "But I don't feel any different." Noting Emily's look of confusion, she hastened to add, "I mean, you're still Emily Fields. My best friend." She grinned, shifting even closer until the front of her body was pressed to Emily's side. "Only, now, you're a best friend that I like to kiss."

"Like?" Emily scoffed, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's an understatement."

Spencer acknowledged it with a slight bow of her head. "Fine, fine. Love."

Emily bit her lip to stop her smile from spreading. "Still falling a little short."

Spencer rolled her eyes. "What do you even want me to say?"

"Maybe that you're addicted. No, that's too tame a word. How about obsession?" Emily's voice was without any exaggerated inflection; her hands drawing teasing circles on Spencer's forearm were enough proof that she was playfully taunting the brunette.

"Addicted?" Spencer laughed, moving till her chin was comfortably wedged between Emily's neck and shoulder. "I'm so not addicted! I've only kissed you a few times." Although that statement was not so true after this night.

"And whose fault is that?", Emily asked rhetorically. Now, she was openly smirking, her lips moving of their own volition.

Spencer exhaled shakily, her gaze skimming over the enticing lines that made up Emily's face—the curves of cocked eyebrows, the indentations on her cheeks, the delicate strokes of a million dark lashes that looked like an invitation. This girl was slowly, but surely, making Spencer lose her mind. She bit her lip absently, and smiled. "I never knew this side of you. I never even knew it existed."

Emily's eyebrows raised even higher, and Spencer hastened to add, "Not that I don't like it."

"I don't doubt that," Emily giggled softly, careful enough not to be too loud. "Now that I have the Hastings stamp of approval, I think I should make this side public."

"Don't you dare!" Spencer quickly interjected, her eyes widening in protest. She really didn't want Emily to be like this with anyone else. But then, perhaps Emily was like this with all the girls she was involved with. Did that mean that all those girls—Maya, Samara, Paige, and god, even Arianna—knew this side? The thought made Spencer feel more than a little bit annoyed.

"Why not?" Emily asked, her hand moving down to rest on Spencer's arm. She looked like she already knew the answer to that question, but she'd rather have Spencer say it.

"Because..! Well, for purely humanitarian reasons," Spencer replied matter-of-factly.

Emily frowned in confusion. "What?"

"If you unleash so much sexiness on the world, it would surely result in a catastrophe. I mean, imagine those poor people who don't have a will of steel like me! They would perish." A hint of a smile still lingered on Spencer's lips, but she rattled out the sentences like she was stating well-known facts, and the absurdness of the whole thing made Emily laugh in response.

"You should introduce me to that will of steel of yours. It's been MIA so far."

Spencer mock-gasped. "You're kidding. It's very much in action, even right now." When Emily scoffed in response, Spencer raised a hand to tug at her chin, till they were once again looking into each other's eyes. "You should be grateful to my willpower. If it weren't so strong, you would've been currently being assaulted in certain manners that would've guaranteed me a prison sentence. If I hadn't been so damn attractive, that is." She winked, and Emily felt her stomach swoop.

"Are you trying to make me hate that willpower of yours?" Emily whispered, suddenly feeling breathless. "Because, if that's the case, you're doing a very good job."

Spencer's chest felt like it was going to burst. "Would you rather it disappeared?"

Emily nodded, her eyes wider than ever. "Yes, please."

Spencer leaned forward, and met Emily's lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Their mouths touched like all the hesitation that had been a barrier between them before, was now back. It was a chaste touching of lips, yet it managed to make Spencer's heart hammer in her chest. This was just as good as their passion-fueled kisses had been, if not better. The slivers of air between their lips hummed with electricity, and finally, when Emily opened her mouth because she couldn't stand this slowness any longer, she could swear that some of the sparks landed on her tongue.

When they finally pulled free, they were both breathing heavily. Emily was on her side now, her legs tangled up in Spencer's, her hands resting on the flat of Spencer's stomach. Somehow, the buttons at the bottom of Spencer's long shirt had come undone, and a slice of skin reflected the pale, dying moonlight. She was just becoming conscious of where her hands were, but she made no move to remove them. Instead, she let her fingers rise along with Spencer's rhythmic breathing. She casually, deliberately curled her fingers, her nails skimming over the skin, and she felt the toned, stomach muscles clench under her touch.

"Wow. You're really good at this," Spencer mumbled shakily, the tip of her tongue peeking out and wetting the corner of her already-damp mouth. "I guess you have a lot of experience..."

She was hyper-aware of Emily's hands under her shirt, lying innocently on her stomach; her senses had sharpened so much that she could feel every ridge, every line of Emily's palm brushing against her skin. It made warmth pool in the bottom of her stomach, and her own hands, which were at the small of Emily's back, slid under Emily's shirt, and greedily mapped out her smooth back. She could hear a gasp die in Emily's throat, and she could see those blazing ebony eyes fire up even more, and it gave her a satisfaction that she instantly grew addicted to.

"Not a lot," Emily whispered. "But enough," she added, eyes twinkling. "Is this a way of asking me how many girls I've made out with?"

"Maybe," Spencer admitted. She honestly didn't want to know, but she could guess at the amount. Judging from Emily's success in Rosewood—every gay girl there had practically thrown themselves at Emily—Spencer could safely assume that Emily's adventures in college might have given her access to worlds that Spencer knew nothing about. It was a new, weird feeling. For the first time, she was out of her depth.

"Like I said, not too many," Emily replied cryptically. "Please tell me you don't want a list."

Spencer laughed. "I do, actually. I'm going to hunt each one down and fracture their knee-caps. And maim them in other, non-life-threatening ways."

Emily grinned. "To be honest, I don't really know if you're joking."

Spencer pretended to be offended, and her fingertips sunk into Emily's skin, making her gasp. "That's offensive. Am I really that scary?"

Emily nodded.

"That's good," Spencer chuckled, burying her nose in the waves of black hair near Emily's neck. "I like being scary."

"How did I know that you were going to say that?"

"Perhaps it's because you know me too well." Spencer moved her head back a little, gazing up at the skin underneath Emily's chin. She reached up and planted a soft kiss there, and heard Emily sigh in that familiar way that Spencer was growing used to, a sound that she loved.

And it was just that fact, that scared Spencer so much. Toby knew her, knew her in a lot of ways that the other girls didn't. But Emily was her best friend. Although she'd had more time to be alone with Toby, although she'd been consumed (in the past) with a need to get to know him intimately, it still couldn't beat just how well two friends could know each other. Emily knew things about her that no one did, and that was what made this attraction between them so dangerous. All the lines were just so damn blurred, that she didn't know where their friendship ended, and started being something else entirely.

"Now that's scary."

"What is?", Spencer asked, now shifting so that the tip of her nose was against Emily's cheekbone, and her lips hovering near Emily's mouth.

"You being quiet for more than five seconds."

"You're too mean to me. I'm feeling very unwelcome, you know."

"If by unwelcome, you mean thoroughly kissed, then yeah, you should be feeling very unwelcome right now," Emily retorted, smiling. Spencer rolled her eyes, and let her hands move from their safe spot, her fingers teasingly walking upwards, feeling taut muscles underneath. The response was immediate and exactly what Spencer had expected. All words died on Emily's lips, and her breath hitched. Spencer grinned, loving the fact that she had a new weapon to add to her arsenal. Everything, and anything, was useful in a war. This was a completely new tactic, and the more she used it, the more she liked it. Her fingers started drawing lazy circles on smooth skin, and soon, Emily was squirming against her, unable to move back, but also unable to control herself.

"You too should be more verbal about how you're feeling right now, Em."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And Spencer thought that this was it; they were going to kiss again. But she'd forgotten entirely about the fact that Emily had the same weapons at her disposal. She was reminded by the way Emily's fingers moved quite unconsciously under her shirt, and clutched the ends of her shirt with abandon. It looked like Emily too had forgotten about where her hands were, and that the touch of fabric against her fingertips brought her back to reality. She smirked, and her hands were mimicking Spencer's moves, carefully brushing over the soft, tense lines of Spencer's abs.

"Be careful what you wish for, Spence."

Spencer gasped, and she jumped back, falling off the bed, unable to stand the fiery trail that Emily's fingertips ignited on her skin. It was all too much, and suddenly the room seemed too small for the two of them. Emily was like a blazing fire; so hot that it burnt her, and so bright that it hurt her eyes to gaze at her too much. But all she wanted to do was look at her. It reminded her of how, as a child, she'd ignored the advice of her parents (because even then, she'd loved challenges), and looked at the sun for too long. She'd been left with bright spots in her vision that had blinded her for the rest of the day. That's exactly how she felt right now. Looking at Emily meant that whenever Spencer looked at anything else, she had to blink past the imprints of perfection on her vision, and struggle to see the rest of the world.

"I think...I think I should go."

Emily's smirk was gone now. She sat up, pushing down her shirt which had been teased up by Spencer's hands. All she did was nod, and a pang of disappointment shot through Spencer.

Spencer had no idea what the time was. She looked around the room, trying to find a clock. When she located one, she squinted to judge where the blurry hands where pointing. She had no idea if she was right, but it looked like it was 3 am. Time had somehow moved fast, yet slowly. It had felt like an eternity squeezed into a second. For some reason, being with Emily always made Spencer feel like that. Like time was elastic, like reality was nothing but a figment of her imagination, like logic and reason were words without meaning or practical use.

Her definitions, her ideas, her very beliefs about the world were being slowly erased by this crazy, perfect girl.

And she didn't really mind.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to." Emily had noticed her hesitation, had correctly guessed at what was causing it.

"Arianna..." Spencer mumbled, as if that could be reason enough for her to leave. If she were really scared of the girl sleeping next door, she would've never been crazy enough to step foot in this room. But then again, if Spencer had been behaving normally, she would've never even thought of sneaking off into the night to come to Emily's house. "Toby. He might wake up, and if he doesn't find me, he'll worry."

"I don't want you to leave." Emily bit her lip, lowering her lashes and gazing at her hands. She knew that goodbyes meant nothing when it came to the two of them, but it didn't mean that she liked them.

"I don't want to leave."

They were both being surprisingly verbal about their feelings. Something had changed after this night, the brief hours that they had spent together. The tension that had been breaking them in the locker room had gone; it had been replaced by a different kind of ache, a pull that seemed to bind them together. They could breathe easier now that everything was out into the open (at least between them), but at the same time, there was something that caused both their chests to feel constricted whenever their gazes locked.

"I don't want to leave." The air was too dense, the mood too sombre. Spencer didn't want to leave with the image of a sullen, distraught Emily.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," she said in a high, dramatic voice. She grinned, quoting from Romeo and Juliet again, wondering if Emily would pick up on it. Shakespeare had been Spencer's favourite in school, but Emily had always hated the 'old-people talk' that they'd been forced to endure. That had meant that whenever they got homework, Spencer was the one who had to do it for Emily.

"That I shall say good night till it be morrow," Emily finished, raising her eyes almost shyly, and smiling.

It surprised Spencer so much that she nearly swooned on the spot, then controlled herself. She was honestly losing her head. "Just when I thought that I couldn't love you more." She chuckled, walking backwards till she was near the French windows.

Emily blushed furiously, and just like that, she was back to being the sweet, shy Emily Fields that Spencer had known all her life. She ducked her head. "You're honestly not going to Spiderman your way out, are you?"

"I wasn't aware of another way out." Spencer blinked, feeling rather stupid. She'd been so caught up in the moment, that she'd forgotten about how she would leave.

"You know, there's this wonderful passageway that they call the door. Normal people use it all the time! Maybe you should try." Emily was trying hard not to laugh, and Spencer made a face at her. "I'll show you the way downstairs. The stairs don't creak, thank goodness."

"No, no. I'll go. I'm good at this sneaky spy business." Spencer waved away Emily's protests and started making her way towards the door, then stopped mid-way. She turned around, her eyebrows raised. "Arianna won't wake up, will she?"

"Don't worry. Her bark is worse than her bite," Emily reassured her, somehow making it sound like a subtle tease. "That is, if you stay alive long enough to feel her bite."

"Ha-ha." Spencer was trying really hard to keep a straight face, but it was proving to be quite difficult. "Always knew she was a bitch," she muttered under her breath. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she said to Emily, her tone lifting with hope.

"Of course." As if Spencer even needed to ask. Emily didn't think that there would ever come a day when they wouldn't meet. Somehow, they always managed to find their way to each other, albeit in strange ways, but she wasn't complaining.

"Good night, Em." Spencer lingered near the door, narrowing her eyes to try and see better in the dark. She could make out the dark shape of Emily on the bed, but the nuances of her face had blended into the gray that coated their surroundings. She would have to wait till the light of the day lit up those features before she could gaze fondly on them again.

"Good night, Spence."

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**A/N:** _Comments/Criticisms? I'd love anything you've got to say. Don't be shy. (;_

**SpemilyForever:**_ No, your reviews are great! You're right, it would totally suck to be them, but hey, they're not Spemily. (; You'll have to wait for that kind of drama, I'm afraid. But more drama's headed your way!  
My favourite scene? The orchard one, although it's very cliche. I love the poetry of their words, so much! Or perhaps when they actually first meet. It's not my favourite play, plot-wise, but the words are just so damn beautiful. _

**AxLax420:**_ Thank you so much for those kind comments! I don't know about intelligence, this story sort of just writes itself! I am just the instrument. Poor Toby, I shall try to downplay his presence, but what's love without angst? (;_

**Sinclaire:**_ Wow! Thank you so much! _

**CloudGypsy:**_ They are totally wicked. But then, kissing sessions are totally necessary, or how would they function otherwise?  
Thank you. I'm really glad you like this story._

**Kxia**_**:** It's enough to know if my chapters are working right, and I think you got that across very well, haha. Thank you. _

**hRcK1224:**_ Thanks a lot!_

**Guest**_**:** Thanks so much for the kindness! I'm glad my struggle didn't show, I was aiming for that, really. _

**abbeydawnyeah**_**:** Idk about being a pro, but I'm really flattered that you think so!  
_

**spinoza-off**_**:** Wow, thanks. I think I'm a little too fond of humour and irony, and I really try to be funny, but mostly, I think it's a wasted effort. I just don't want my chapters to have the same tone throughout, as I'm really afraid of putting the reader to sleep, and I'm glad that some parts are making you laugh.  
You are right, about Toby being a little obtuse about his relationship with Spencer. He's just afraid to see something so perfect fall apart.  
I guess the thing that made me a total Spemily shipper was your fic, _Speeding Up_, coz it was just...wow! Totally blew my mind. Yeah. So, I guess that is my inspiration when I try to show all the little ways in which these two are just completely perfect for each other. _

**LaughLoveLiveXx**_**:** I'm glad that the references weren't too stupid or cliched. As you can see, I've continued that theme.  
Yeah, Spencer and Toby are working hard to save their relationship, but they can only do so much. What Spencer and Emily have is completely different from what Spencer and Toby have and that's the key to why Spencer is slowly drifting away from someone she used to love so much.  
I think it will take them much more time to actually admit to loving each other in _that _way, because, most of all, they're scared. It's not going to be easy, for sure. _

**go-sullivan**_**:** Haha. Emily topping has to be the hottest thing ever, yeah. _

**Craycrayforshay**_**:** Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it. _

**Evanemore**_**:** Please don't die! I can't lose such a lovely reader. :)  
_

**JustforKicks403**_**:** I'm glad the scenes come out as hot, because I think any Spemily scene should be just crazy sexy, so I needed to translate that into words. I think Spencer's the only one who can make being dorky look sexy, and yeah, thinking of Emily sure makes her do a lot of crazy things!  
I think the quiet ones are always the wildest, and Emily, for sure would be one of those, and I'm just trying to show that as the fic progresses. She's only this way with Spencer, because she feels comfortable enough to tease her and flirt with her. But obviously, her external persona returns even when Spencer's around, as she has this automatic defense system built in that makes her act all shy and reticent.  
And thank you! Don't worry, I love long rants very much! :)_


	17. Emerald Eyes

**A/N : **_Yes, finally! My deepest and sincerest apologies to have kept you all waiting. A lot of reasons conspired to keep me from writing this update, writer's block being one of them, so I apologize in advance for the quality (or rather, lack of) of this chapter. Also, I haven't really proof-read this one, so please let me know if there are any errors! _

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**Chapter 17 - Emerald Eyes**

The loud, monotonic ringing of the phone woke Spencer up. She had fallen asleep at her table, her hair splayed over the files that she'd been looking at. Her head shot up fast, and she spat a few stray locks of hair out of her mouth, feeling disorientated. A headache was beginning to make her head pound, and the shrill sound wasn't helping. Annoyed, she picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Spencer barked into the receiver, trying to stifle a yawn.

"Are you sleeping on the job, Spencer?" Her mother's voice was stern and disapproving, and made Spencer sit up straight and look around in alarm.

"No! No, I was just a little tired. Stayed up late last night."

"Hopefully it was because you were reviewing your cases, and not because of that Cavanaugh boy." Even through the electronic connection, Spencer could hear the distaste in her mother's voice.

"His name is Toby, mom. And yes, I was working late." The lie came out easily. She'd gotten used to lying to her parents; it was as simple as breathing. Obviously, she couldn't tell her mother the real reason for her late night.

"Good. Although, I really don't see what can be so complex about a _divorce._" Veronica Hastings really didn't miss an opportunity to let Spencer know how disappointed she was of her daughter's career choices.

"Yeah. I don't either. Your divorce was a piece of cake, wasn't it?" Spencer couldn't help but let bitterness slip into her voice. She remembered the divorce battle that had taken place, and how ugly it had gotten. Her parents were both headstrong, and the only thing that had stopped them from having an all-out war over their shared property was their mutual need to keep a good public reputation.

"Spencer." Veronica's voice has dropped to a dangerous pitch, one that Spencer was quite familiar with. When she'd been young, it had always induced fear in her. Now, it just made her irritated.

"Mother." Spencer was nothing but her mother's daughter. She heard a sigh on the other end, and rested her cheek on her hand, her eyes skimming over the lines of fine print in front of her.

"I don't even know why I bother to call you. Well, let me get to the reason why I actually called. You have to meet Conrad." There was no hint of a request in Veronica's voice. It was crisp and businesslike. "He's in town for the weekend, and he told me that he'd like to see you."

Spencer sighed, scowling at the far wall. "I don't want to meet Conrad." She really disliked that obnoxious cousin of hers. Her mother, on the other hand, positively doted on the orphaned son of her brother. "I hate him," she muttered under her breath.

"What was that? Speak up. A Hastings never mumbles."

"Sorry, mom." Habits were hard to break, and Spencer found herself acting once more like an obedient daughter. It was strange how she could feel her mother controlling her, even from such a distance. "I think I'm too busy this weekend—"

"—You are to meet him, and that's final. You never know, you might learn something from him. He's very famous now, did you know? His victory in the Parker case has earned him the best clients," Veronica interjected, unable to listen to her daughter's protests any longer. "You have to _make_ time."

Spencer knew that she couldn't avoid the lunch. "Where do I have to meet him?" she sighed in a resigned way, resisting the urge to slump forward on the table. The day was going from bad to worse. "And when, exactly?"

"He said he was free today. Why don't you take him to lunch? Take him somewhere nice." There was a pause, and a distant shuffle of paper through the static. "How about 15 East? I've heard they've got a new chef straight from Japan."

Spencer nearly gagged. "Mom, you know I hate sushi." She cradled the phone in one hand, while she started typing out a search for restaurants near her office building. The less time she wasted on Conrad, the better.

"Conrad loves it. And this meeting is not about you. Take him there." Veronica's tone was final, and Spencer could feel the conversation drawing to a close.

"Okay." Spencer felt like throwing something at the wall. Maybe her computer...

"I'll let him know that you want to see him for lunch. Bye."

"Bye, mom." Spencer heard the click of the phone call ending, and then let the receiver fall from her hands. "Oh, by the way, I'm doing fine, mom. Thanks for asking," she muttered at the empty air in front of her. She knew that she shouldn't waste her time being bitter. She'd given up hope a long time ago of having a normal family. The Hastings were unique, and she was as much a Hastings as the rest of them. Spencer got up from her seat, and put her blazer on, taking her time. She reached down to tidy the papers that had been spread all over the table, and smooth down the bent corners she had caused in her little nap. She smoothed down the front of her shirt, made sure that there were no creases left in her tailored skirt, and started making her way towards the door. Walking outside of her cabin, she noticed her secretary hard at work, bent over several large folders.

"Violet? I'm going out for lunch. I don't have any meetings scheduled for this afternoon, do I?"

"No, Ms. Hastings. Oh, and your mom just left a reminder for you to meet a Mr. Conrad Archibald in precisely an hour, and that she's booked a reservation."

Spencer smiled tightly at the pleasant face looking up at her. She had to hand it to her mother; that woman was nothing but efficient. "Thanks." Now all she had to worry about was getting there and managing the seemingly impossible task of sitting through a meal with her dear cousin.

* * *

The air was thick with about a hundred different variants of the same fishy smell that made Spencer nauseous. She had been escorted (by a smartly dressed man with a gleaming, hairless head) to an almost separated part of the busy restaraunt. The tables were filled with designer-dressed professionals arguing over steaming plates of pale, decorated fish, and women tittering over dainty portions of caviar and cocktails. The atmosphere was reminiscent of the many 'family dinners' she had been forced to endure, where the Hastings had discussed politics and their accomplishments, amongst other world issues.

Spencer had gotten there early, solely due to the efforts of one rather brave taxi driver, whom she had tipped generously. She hated being late to things, even if they spelled doom and disaster, or at least certain boredom. Now, she kept glancing irritatedly at her watch, and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Spencer? It is you, right?"

Spencer's head jerked up so fast that she heard something pop in her neck. Standing near the table, with two hands curled over the top of a chair, was Conrad. Spencer immediately found a scowl forming on her face as she surveyed her cousin and childhood nemesis. There was a cockier and more aggressive version of Spencer's smirk twisting his lips, and evident amusement lit up his icy, slate-grey eyes. Conrad had sharp features, a well defined jaw, and a nose that looked like it could slice through steel like a hot knife through butter. He was considered attractive by some foolish women, that much Spencer knew, but she found him as unappealing as seaweed that had been stepped upon. What made it worse was, Conrad Archibald was someone who was very aware of his good looks and acted like it gave him a superiority over everyone else.

"Were you expecting someone else?" Spencer arched an eyebrow, not even attempting to hide the curl of disdain on her lips. Just because she had to be here didn't mean that she was going to pretend to enjoy herself. Her unconcealed annoyance seemed to add to the self-satisfied smirk on Conrad's face, and it was all Spencer could do to not throw her wine glass at his face.

"No, but I'm sure you weren't. I kinda invited someone else." Conrad made a face that looked like it was meant to be apologetic, but came out more like a 'what-can-you-do' look. He glanced impatiently at his phone, then took a seat opposite Spencer's. "I have a...friend who needs a lawyer. She's running late, but she'll be here soon." He shrugged, turning to smile at the waiter who had come to their table.

"One Yellowtail Sashimi Three Ways for my entrée, thank you," Conrad ordered without even opening the menu. Spencer rolled her eyes. Of course, it had to be the most expensive appetizer on the menu. Spencer scanned through the list, trying to not be too squeamish as she conjured up mental image after mental image of writhing pieces of various seafood served on pristine white plates.

"Kumamoto Oyster for me, please," Spencer stumbled over the unfamiliar, foreign word, and Conrad bit back a laugh. The waiter nodded and walked away, brisk in manner and gait.

Spencer went with oyster because she had tasted it before, and because she really didn't want to take the risk of throwing up in front of Conrad (not to mention the other, influential people she was surrounded with). Besides, how bad could a rumoured aphrodisiac be? Although, she was sure that any effect of the said aphrodisiac would be negated immediately by the powerful force-field of concentrated sliminess that surrounded Conrad. As soon as she said it, she heard Conrad snort, then disguise it as a cough. "If I remember correctly, you're a lawyer too, right?"

The smirk was wiped off Conrad's face for a split second, then his lips once again slid into a sneer. "It's more of something that requires...your _expertise. _I was hoping you could help. This friend of mine, she doesn't really want a divorce, but I'm sure you could change her mind." Conrad arched his dark eyebrows, his gray eyes glinting with insinuations. Just like that, Spencer got a clear understanding of why this particular request was being made. She felt a tinge of pity for the poor girl whom Conrad was eyeing for his next conquest. He did seem very keen on her.

"If I'm not wrong, you haven't told her about this meeting, have you?" Spencer asked, smiling with no hint of amusement. Someone else was going to be surprised, just like she had been. No wonder Conrad had asked her mom that he wanted to see Spencer. It wasn't just a sudden longing for a friendly catch up session with a cousin that he'd been wanting. It was business. As always.

"Oh, Spencer. The fact that you know me so well really flatters me." His eyes were laughing at her, in a cruel, mocking way.

Spencer's hand tightened around the handle of the chopsticks beside her plate. Maybe if she started screaming like she was being murdered and then gouged his eyes out, she could always lie about it being some sort of self-defense. Grinding her teeth together to prevent herself from saying something that would surely be reported back to her mother, Spencer looked away. A waiter, clad in crisp black, walked by with a huge, steaming octopus on a plate, and Spencer's eyes started watering. She couldn't wait to get out of this place.

"We shouldn't have ordered without your friend." Spencer was just saying something, anything, to fill up the awkward silence. To her, it felt like every empty moment meant a moment where she could feel Conrad's critical gaze analyzing her, finding a new flaw to poke and laugh about. Even now, she could sense the derision coming out of his very pores. It gave her a weird sort of satisfaction; the one thing they had in common was how much they detested the other.

"Don't worry about that. She's vegetarian," Conrad callously remarked, glancing briefly at his watch. "And she barely eats."

Spencer resisted the urge to smash the china against his styled, brown locks. "There's vegetarian dishes here as well. Or, maybe we could've gone to a vegetarian place, then."

Conrad smirked. "But I love sushi. Besides, you made the reservation, Spencer." He spoke slowly, as if he were talking to a three year old and his patience was wearing thin. "How about we use this time to...catch up?" He smiled again, and the amber lights glinted off his even, white teeth.

"If you insist." Spencer stopped her millionth survey of the room, pausing her categorizing of the people in the restaurant. She reluctantly focused her gaze on Conrad's face. "How are things, Conrad?" she asked bluntly, faking the most blatant smile that she could muster up. She felt a thrill of joy when she saw his eyes harden, but his face remained as irritatingly pleasant as ever.

"Splendid. I bought a villa in Sevilla and just finished remodeling my chateau in Bordeaux," Conrad beamed, his eyebrows raising as if Spencer had just thrown him a challenge. "How about you? Everything nice and cozy up in...What's-That-Place-Called-Again-Town?"

Spencer's eyes flashed with anger. "It's called _Holbrook," _she hissed through gritted teeth. She sighed.

"What is it with you and small towns? What was that other one called?"

"Rosewood." This time, Spencer's voice was barely a subdued whisper. Conrad cocked his eyebrow, noting the change in expression and the sudden tension in Spencer's shoulders.

"I bet you miss it. Is that why you settled in Holbrook, instead of The Big Apple? Why did you leave it in the first place? You could have worked with Aunt Veronica, up in Philly." Conrad was going to keep prodding her till she slipped up and said something stupid about her past.

A pounding headache was playing hide-and-seek with her, and now it was burying its roots into her temple. She pressed her fingertips against her forehead, frowning. She didn't want to talk about Rosewood. She didn't want to think about it. It was making her think of Emily. Emily, who was so far away right now. What was Emily doing now? No, she couldn't think about Emily now. What if Conrad has some supervillain powers that allowed him stray glimpses into her thoughts? What Spencer was thinking right now would definitely count as ammunition, and he would hardly wait to use it against her. Spencer pulled her mind away from the direction it was headed (back to the events of the previous night, why she was so tired, why she hadn't been able to sleep a wink even after getting home), and tried to look bored.

"I needed a change of scenery. There's too much of the same there, in Rosewood."

Conrad laughed. "Holbrook's very vibrant, I suppose," he muttered between chuckles.

"Oh yes. Almost as fun as sitting here, having sushi with my favourite cousin."

That shut him up. This time, the look of intense dislike that Conrad shot her was unmistakable.

"So, where did you meet this 'friend' of yours?" she continued disinterestedly, trying to change the track of the conversation. Perhaps she meant it as a white flag. She knew that this meeting was an important milestone in the distance that separated her mother and her, a distance that Spencer kept trying to lessen. She was mentally praying that she could use this little lunch get-together as a card against her mother if she ever tried to make Spencer visit the Archibalds in the future.

Conrad's face broke into a cocky smirk."It's quite interesting actually. She was one of the artists that we showcased at _Art à la Archibald_," he drawled with an air of supremacy. He was bragging about the exhibition that his family sponsored every year, where upcoming artists were allowed to exhibit their works. That is, if they succeeded in getting on the good side of the Archibalds. Whoever this _friend _of Conrad's was, she must have done a lot of ass-kissing to get into the show.

"I remember she was wearing this shocking, red cocktail dress," Conrad continued, his lips drawn into a thin-lipped smirk. His eyes were a little glazed over, and Spencer couldn't help but compare his vacant gaze to the glassy, bead-like eyes of the large fish displayed proudly on the table next to theirs. "I, being a true connoisseur of maraschino cherries, gravitated towards her. It was like love at first bite," he divulged, baring his even teeth in a leer that made Spencer's skin crawl. "Of course, I did not literally bite her. I simply tasted her intellect." Spencer felt her eyes rolling of their own accord. Leave it to Conrad to make the world 'intellect' sound like an obscene insult.

In reply to his little confession, she merely grimaced even more. Her face contorted with disgust at the sight of the two plates that were placed before her by another smartly clad waiter. She smiled and thanked the waiter politely. The food critic inside her, that had been so blatantly absent the day she'd lunched at Arianna's, now surfaced with a vengeance. She could find no fault with the food displayed in front of her. The presentation was exquisite, the vegetables colourful and perfectly julienned and the oyster shells glowed in the soft lighting. She could look past the semi-liquid insides of the shells. She could treat it as medicine, and down it like a shot. The dishes didn't even look half bad. Well, at least hers didn't. Conrad's dish, however, was raw fish posing as edible food posing as a distorted flower. It made her back away a little, and Conrad, who was eyeing her like a hawk, noticed the little movement.

"They look delicious, don't they?," Conrad grinned. He was obviously enjoying the look in her eyes a little too much. Purposely, he shifted his plate so that it was closer to Spencer. "You should've ordered what I did. It's their best dish. Everything tastes better raw." He lifted a pale pink piece of fish to his mouth to prove his point, and closed his eyes as he chewed slowly. "Perfect."

"Oh, yes. Absolutely lovely," Spencer replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm and false sweetness. She could totally imagine Conrad catching fish with his bare hands and then biting down on the heads without bothering to cook them like a civilized human being. Blood seemed to be the perfect accessory for him. Spencer lifted her fork and knife, and looked at her plate. The utensils that she had always relied on were going to prove useless now. She slowly laid them to the side, grabbed a napkin for comfort, then picked up an oyster. She'd had oysters before. In France, on a vacation, when she was eight. She remembered that she had gotten so horribly sick that they'd had to cancel their trip to Nice and Provence, much to the irritation of her entire family. But she'd just been a kid then. Spencer was confident that this time, she'd be able to keep down her food, and look like she was enjoying it as well.

Conrad positively glowed at Spencer's discomfort. He muffled his laughter by wiping his mouth with the silk napkins provided by the restaurant. Spencer's eyes narrowed to slits. The edge of the fork dug into her palm. She reined in all her emotions and converted her face into a passive and neutral expression. It was second nature to Spencer now due to years of practice, but it was still hard for her to summon her natural calm.

The display of serenity seemed to goad Conrad into being even ruder. "Are you going to eat that or not?"

Spencer sighed and nodded, then bared her teeth at Conrad. It wasn't a smile. It wasn't even a proper grimace. Honestly, it was frightening, and it wiped the smirk off Conrad's face, because Spencer looked more than a little deranged. "You are so caring, Conrad," she simpered, talking just so she wouldn't have to put the food into her mouth. Anyone listening in on the conversation would think that they were truly considerate towards each other, but the expressions on their faces loudly proclaimed just how feigned their familiarity and closeness was.

"Huh. Of course, Spencer. Family always looks out for each other, right?"

The arrogance was back, and for a split second, Spencer saw an eleven-year old Conrad sitting opposite her, instead of the twenty-seven year old. It was the same thing Conrad had said to her, back when Spencer was nine. Veronica had been visiting family, and she'd taken Spencer and Melissa along. The Archibald reunions always meant that Veronica's brother, Marcus, and his horrible son, Conrad, would be there. The reunions had always taken place at the Archibald ranches, and that particular year, Melissa had completely left Spencer alone, because some French boys had decided to make an appearance with some of their older cousins. The only one who had wanted to be around her was Conrad. Conrad had been a good looking boy, even back then, with his dimples, devilish smirk, and his curious grey eyes. Spencer had always detested his all-knowing air, but she'd been forced to tolerate his presence. Promising adventure, he had led her out to an old, rope swing near the stables. He'd helped her on, as the rope was too short, and the swing was too high for Spencer. He'd given her a good few pushes, before the rope had snapped, and she fell. Spencer remembered that she'd survived the three-foot fall with a few bruises and a lot of scraped skin, but what she remembered the most was the laughter that had accompanied her fall. Conrad laughed even more when he noticed the wobble of Spencer's lip, and her glassy eyes. He'd doubled up, then fallen back and rolled in the grass, chortling his heart out. Seeing that had hurt Spencer more than the fall. And she could proudly say that, although the fall had been really painful, she hadn't cried. Not once. Not even after going home. Not even when Conrad had dragged her to a little pond and ordered her to wash the blood and dirt off her hands and knees, and delivered his line._ 'Family always looks out for each other, Spencer. I'm a good cousin, aren't I? I don't want you to bleed to death now, do I? You'll tell your mother how good I was, won't you?'_ The fall had been planned. But Spencer had never breathed a word about it, and no one except Melissa had noticed the scrapes on her knees and her bruises. Besides, she could have hardly said anything against Conrad. That summer, Marcus died when the pilot of his private jet lost control somewhere over the Atlantic ocean. Conrad's mother, Katherine, had died in childbirth, so he was left orphaned. Spencer couldn't have accused him of anything after that.

Reliving that memory made Spencer's heart harden even more. She could not believe she had agreed to come along to this. She could've been catching up on sleep now. Hell, she could've been doing anything, now. Anything would be better than this pretense, this awful farce.

"Yes, Conrad. You always have lived by that principle, haven't you?" Her eyes glittered with bitterness, and she felt smug inside when the smirk on Conrad's face faltered. She had grown stronger, and they had barely interacted after that little incident. He had probably taken her childhood silence as a show of weakness. Well, now he could clearly see that Spencer Hastings was anything but weak.

Conrad nodded absently, and bent his head, returning to his plate of food as if they hadn't been talking at all. He attacked his fish with renewed vigour, no longer taking the time to savour it or make a show of daintily putting it into his mouth and chewing it slowly. Spencer too, let her gaze fall to the plate in front of her. Some small part, at the back of her mind, reminded her that her food would taste even worse cold. But she paid no attention to it.

After playing with and neatly organizing her vegetables (according to colour, of course) and oysters to different sides, Spencer looked up from her plate. She noticed that Conrad had now stopped eating and was excitedly waving at someone, the mood from several minutes ago changing entirely. She felt her curiosity rise and she turned her head to look at who Conrad was waving. It was a woman. Probably the guest they were supposed to be meeting. Conrad's 'maraschino cherry'. Spencer stared directly at her shoes first, as she was a firm believer of the theory that shoes said a lot about the person wearing them. The clothes not only maketh the man, but also the woman. The shoes were strange, multi-coloured platform shoes, with some sort of tassels attached to the front. She then let her gaze travel upwards, like a scanner. The woman was wearing a bohemian, floral print skirt and an oversized white blouse with a Puritan collar. Her scarf was an old one and made of faux-fur. Spencer raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange mix of familiarity and newness wash over her. The accessories were too eclectic and chunky for Spencer to dwell on, so she moved straight to the person's face. The woman was moving, threading between the efficient bodies of the waiters, so her face kept coming in and out of Spencer's vision. Finally, as she neared the table, Spencer got a clear view.

The woman had short, pixie-ish hair that barely touched her shoulders. They had been dyed purple at the tips, but the purple was fading, leaving behind a bleached colour above the tips. She had donned large, oversized sunglasses that covered most of her face. Her cheekbones were highlighted with the slightest tinge of rouge. Her lips were bow-shaped and there was a hint of smile on her face. Spencer felt her own face contort into a frown of their own accord. The muscles in her neck were starting to cramp because she was turning back at an uncomfortable angle to look at the woman. Something about this woman struck a chord with Spencer. She felt like she knew this person somehow. Her features, the texture of her hair, her shy and timid walk all reminded Spencer of a girl that she couldn't place. It was buried deep in the recesses of her mind.

Unable to take the discomfort anymore, Spencer turned back to Conrad, who had stood up, being the true 'gentleman' that he was or as Spencer thought, pretended to be. Spencer got up too, glad to abandon the plate of food in front of her. She turned around, affixing a natural, yet not-too-intimate smile on her face. The stranger, waved at Conrad, seemingly not noticing Spencer. A waiter suddenly obstructed her path, and she used the pause to bend her head and take her sunglasses off, stuffing them into her beaded hobo bag. Finally, she raised her head, turning towards Spencer with a creased forehead, already questioning the presence of a surprise element. The woman was now almost near their table. Spencer heard Conrad say something in greeting, but it sounded muted and completely unintelligible. She was too busy looking into emerald eyes that were alarmingly increasing in size, the surprise turning into shock, turning into something else. It was that little thing, that set off something inside Spencer, and at once, she knew exactly who she was face to face with.

* * *

**A/N: **_Comments/Criticisms? I'd love to know any opinion that you guys have. Also, if you'd like to suggest stuff or point out areas for improvement, please do feel free to do that!_

**spinoza-off:**_ I do love fluff, but only when it's written in a certain way. I don't really like sugary sweet, haha, so I was trying not to make people drown in sweetness. And thank you so much for your kind words. It's very flattering, especially from a writer of your talent and stature. Hot is what I aim for, mostly, because, in my opinion, if Spemily is one thing, it's hot. Their fights, their cutesy moments, their drama. I try to write all of that keeping in mind their hotness, so I'm happy that it translated well. _

**nude as the news****:**_ Wow, thanks! I'm glad that my writing is getting some sort of a reaction! I tend to skip sentences when I read boring bits, and the fact that you don't with my fic, means a lot to me! I'll try to keep the boredom-inducing stuff out as much as I can!_

**CloudGypsy:**_ Thank you so much for that wonderful review!  
You're right, they do like being in bed together, haha. I try to put as much teasing in as possible, because it's fun to write, and hopefully fun to read! And I feel that, in certain romantic situations, Spencer would certainly not be as brave as she makes herself out to be. But yes, when (and if) the time comes, Emily will certainly give Spencer an education, haha. _

**LaughLoveLiveXx:**_ Thanks for the review. :) Spencer is a sly one, for sure. She's just very much torn, as during the day, she's all reasonable and logical and trying to save her relationship, while at night, she keeps gravitating to the one thing she truly wants, which is Emily. The best thing about Spemily is that they're best friends first, so I try to show that through their constant teasing and playful flirting. They are obviously exploring new aspects of their relationship, but they are still friends. Although they've developed other feelings, the platonic ones are still there, and I try to keep that as the undertone in any scene that I write with them together. _

**AnGeLuZ:**_ You don't have to apologize! I'm grateful for a review, really. Thank you so much! You are really flattering me with your kind comments, and I know how it feels when you feel like you absolutely have to finish a fanfic! I'm so happy that my fic did that for you, and I do hope that you'll keep enjoying the chapters as much in the future as you have so far.  
You are so right about Toby! There is definitely more to Toby's character, and it will be revealed in future chapters as the story progresses. Arianna is suspicious by nature, so she's obviously noticed the chemistry between Spencer and Emily from the start. You will get your Aria and Hanna soon! :) _

**SpemilyForever:**_ Thanks so much! Haha, I would kill to have the bond that any of the girls share with each other on the show. It really is great, and very rare. I'm glad my filler chapters aren't too boring. xD There's lots more drama to come, because I love drama!  
_

**Artisall:**_ Aw, thank you so much! You're very kind! I really do hope your opinion doesn't change. :)_

**urbankazoos:**_ Wow, that review surely made my ego bigger than it already is, haha. On a more serious note, I really want to thank you for leaving some wonderful comments. I write solely for my readers (and perhaps a little for myself, because I do love Spemily), and knowing that my work is entertaining someone is very rewarding. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting for the update (busy, busy time) but it's mostly because I try not to compromise on the decent-ish quality of my chapters, so I always make sure I'm satisfied before I post. I hope you keep enjoying the story in the future. :)  
_

**lemonfiz1:**_ Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it. :)_


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